The Architecture of Falling
by urbankazoos
Summary: Ashley hasn't seen her sister's best friend in years. It's been a long time since their accidental moment in the kitchen. And now with the girl older, wiser, and in her home for weeks, will they finally have a chance? Or will Spencer be out of her reach?
1. Chapter 1

_**Ok, so here's chapter 1 of my story "The Architecture of Falling." You guys said you'd be up to reading some of my other completed stuff, so...here it is. It's a lot more serious/angsty than "Uncivil Union" but hopefully you'll be into regardless. Let me know what you think. Oh, and also...**_

_**Chapters won't normally be this long, but I wanted to start you off with something substantial. Ok, enough rambling...enjoy!**_

**Chapter 1**

Her eyes met mine, just as they had years ago and I was done

Her eyes met mine, just as they had years ago and I was done. Finished. Catapulted into another version of myself almost immediately. So much had changed. So much had remained the same. She was still…

"Spencer!" Kyla screamed, throwing her arms around the blonde excitedly. But Spencer's eyes remained on mine as she returned the hug.

We re-learned each other in hurried seconds and communicated enough between the space to know we were both in trouble.

"Kyla, oh my God! Look at you!" she said, pulling away to study her more closely, "I can't believe how different...you're beautiful."

"I had to grow up at some point, right? Come on, get in here."

Kyla grabbed Spencer's arm, pulling her inside the house, releasing her only when they had made their way to the middle of the foyer. I leaned against the front door, merely observing.

"Ashley!"

"What?" I practically whispered, suddenly very annoyed by my sister's presence.

"Are you going to say hi to Spencer or are you just going to stand there?"

"Oh, sorry. Spence…hey."

I was forced to make eye contact again. Results the same as before. I was history. I was falling.

"Hey, Ash."

The words were simple but the tone was not. Neither was the girl. The world had found her weakness and stripped her of her parents two years ago. They died in a car wreck, leaving behind two biological children—Spencer and her brother Glen— and one adopted son, Clay. And all of a sudden, the girl who was best friends with my sister, constantly in our house, filling it with laughter and memories was nowhere to be found. Off at some boarding school a million miles away. Her brothers were sent to school out-of-state as well. Life went on. Or so I assumed.

But this Spencer…this Spencer was not the same girl from two years ago. This Spencer had nothing to laugh about.

Kyla seemed oblivious as usual, and dragged Spencer upstairs and to her room. I could hear the door close behind them as I stood in the foyer. This next two weeks would be a lot longer than I had originally anticipated.

--

I stayed in my room as long as possible, grateful for the fact that my oversized bedroom came complete with a full bathroom. I couldn't face her. Not again. Not yet. And not like this. She and I shared a secret. And I knew that the struggle I endured while being in the same space as the blonde plagued her as well.

I was a significant year older than my sister and a year and a half older than Spencer. They were both a grade under me and had been friends since kindergarten. I played my role as the falsely annoyed big sister, sighing at their pointless games and yelling across the hall at all hours of the night when their voices would carry all the way from Kyla's room to my own. But I didn't mind. Spencer's presence brought a sense of normalcy to an otherwise dysfunctional family.

My mother. My partying, rock star father. The booze, the women, the fighting. It didn't exist when Spencer was in our house. My mother had to keep appearances, after all.

"Ashley?"

It was Kyla's voice, suddenly on the other side of my door.

"Yeah?"

"Can I come in, please?"

"It's open."

She swung the door open, face lit up with a blinding smile. Spencer trailed, her face unreadable.

"We wanted to see what you're doing."

"I'm listening to music…as usual."

"Stupid. Why?"

"Um…because I like it."

"But you could hang out with me and Spence. Why be by yourself?"

"Because I like it."

"Let's leave her alone, ok? I know what it's like to want some privacy," Spencer said, blue eyes focusing in on my brown ones.

"But she's always in here!" Kyla exclaimed, plopping herself down on the edge of my bed, "being all anti-social and listening to her stupid IPOD and playing her guitar."

"What's wrong with that?" Spencer and I asked at the same time.

"Nothing, I guess…whatever."

We were all silent for a moment, my eyes on my IPOD, Kyla's on me, and Spencer's everywhere else. They journeyed around the entire distance of the room as if there were something to be learned here.

"Anything else?" I asked finally, releasing a sigh.

"Mom said she's not going to be home tonight. I was thinking we could order a pizza…watch some movies or something. I mean, I wanted to go out, but Spencer's tired so…"

"Even if I wasn't, I'm not the biggest fan of going out. All the lights and the music and the people. I can't deal," Spencer said.

"I totally understand. I used to love it, but I find the older I get, the less appealing it all becomes. If I want a drink spilled on me and a crowded bathroom I can go be a pre-school teacher or something," I agreed.

"Oh, please," Kyla said, shoving me playfully, "the older you get? You're twenty years-old, Ashley. And let's face it, the reason you stopped going out was because Aiden dumped you."

"Aiden didn't dump me. Aiden transferred to the University of Arizona, ok? It was a decision…a _mutual_ decision to discontinue our relationship."

"Discontinue? That sounds a little technical, Ash," Spencer said with a smile that I can only assume created world peace and placed rainbows in the sky.

"Maybe, but it's the truth."

"So you're single?"

I looked at her before answering, unsure of her motives, "Indeed."

"All the more reason to go out," Kyla said, jumping up from the bed, "we'll let you know when the pizza's here, Ash. Try not to have too much fun all by yourself."

Spencer dutifully followed behind her, but not before throwing a knowing glance in my direction from the doorway.

The right words had to be said or this visit would be unbearable. Eventually we'd have to talk about the kiss.

--

One restless hour, two slices of Angelo's pizza, and more awkward glances than I can account for later, I am sitting next to Spencer on the couch—Kyla's idea—as we sit and watch "The Notebook."

Kyla's idea.

I guess I wasn't watching the movie. I guess instead my peripheral vision was interacting with Spencer's as we sat thigh to thigh and secret to secret on that shrinking couch that used to be a lot more horizontally adequate before her arrival. She was sandwiched between Kyla and I, but all bodily contact was with me and the longer it continued the less I was convinced it was merely out of coincidence.

"I freaking love this movie," Kyla says, eyes threatening to spill tears but staying glued to the screen, "I love Ryan Gosling."

"I love Rachel McAdams," Spencer says quietly, and I imagine that her hand casually grazes mine. At least…

I think I imagine.

"Yeah, she's great too," Kyla agrees.

Spencer is staring at me again. I can tell because those eyes could penetrate the thickest surface, render it fragile and unsubstantial. And I'd allow it…

But I can't.

"I think I'm going to call it a night, you two. I'm exhausted," I say, standing suddenly.

"Whoa, but we're getting to the best part. Can't you wait?" Kyla asks.

"I don't think so. I mean, I'm barely awake as is, so…"

Spencer grabs my hand, a last attempt to make me stay and just for a second I squeeze back. I'm only so strong, and she knows it.

"How much longer before it's over, Ky?"

"Like thirty more minutes, I swear. Sit."

I release my hundredth sigh of the evening and collapse beside Spencer once again. But this time I think of that night. That night two years ago, the night before her perception changed forever. That night in the kitchen when Kyla was sound asleep upstairs…

_"Did I scare you?" she asks as she steps into the kitchen._

_Her hair is disheveled, her hands sleepily grab at the hem of her tank top, twisting it around her fingers._

"_No, I was just making my usual three o'clock sandwich. You want one?"_

"_It's three in the morning, Ash."_

"_Hence the name of the sandwich. You want one or not?"_

_She smiles and takes a seat on the barstool across from me at the counter as I prepare another three o'clock sandwich._

"_I couldn't sleep. I had terrible dreams."_

"_Oh yeah?"_

"_Yeah, really weird. There was this one dream or like…part of a dream where I was in this house with all these doors but none of them led anywhere and I was by myself. And like, I couldn't figure out what to do next, you know? Do I try to escape? Do I resign myself to the fact that I'm stuck and alone? What do I do?"_

"_What did you do?"_

"_I don't know. I woke myself up before I found out."_

"_See? How do people do that?"_

"_What? Wake themselves up from dreams?"_

"_Yeah! I can't do that. If I'm having a fucked up dream, there's nothing I can do to stop it. I just have to ride it out."_

"_Maybe that's not such a bad thing. Maybe that's what you're supposed to do and then you're not left wondering like I am right now."_

"_Maybe, but still…"_

"_Yeah, I know. Sometimes it's better not to know."_

"_Exactly," I said, putting the finishing touches on my culinary masterpiece before sliding the plate her way, "here."_

"_I'm so excited," she says, taking a significant bite of the sandwich. Her eyes close and I know that I've secured yet another believer in the power of my three o'clock._

"_You're in love, admit it," I say with a nod, and when her eyes open the emotion behind them almost frightens me._

"_I am, actually."_

"_I knew it."_

_But I'm hesitant now, knowing that somewhere over the horizon is the beginning of a serious conversation._

"_Ashley…I have to talk to you."_

"_What's up?"_

"_Lately I've been having these…I don't know. I don't know what I'm trying to say."_

"_You don't know what you're trying to say?"_

"_Ok, I know what I'm trying to say. I just don't know how to say it. I don't want to make things weird or awkward or whatever."_

"_Listen, I've known you almost all your life, Spence. If I didn't judge you for wearing turtlenecks two years longer than everyone else in the nineties then I'm probably not going to judge you for whatever it is you need to tell me now, ok? Trust me."_

_She laughs lightly, clutching her sandwich like an immovable feast. I'm not ashamed to admit that in that moment all I could see was how perfectly beautiful she looked. Her face was framed by golden locks, her eyes a complex zodiac of blue. It does, however, shame me that I allow her to gain her courage and assault my mouth in a flurry of soft, nervous kisses. One after the other. A simple, repetitive pattern. What am I supposed to do? How dedicated am I supposed to be to the cause of maintaining this girl's innocence? _

"_Spencer," I manage to whisper, as if this won't just spur her forth._

_I try again._

"Ashley…Ash?"

Her hands are on my shoulders, shaking me out of my memory.

"Movie's over."

"Where's Kyla?" I ask, noticing my sister's absence and how vulnerable its existence leaves me.

"She's in the bathroom."

"Oh."

"Yeah…"

"Spencer, we should talk."

"I know."

"Like, sooner than later."

"I know," she says again with an affirming nod, "we should."

"When?"

"I can come to your room…after Kyla falls asleep."

"Do you think that's a good idea?"

She smiles at this, realizing the tension between us isn't one-sided after all, "Ash, it's been two years. A lot has changed."

"Meaning…"

"All I want to do is talk, ok? I've missed you. You were always the older sister I never had, you know?"

Awkward.

She notices and fixes it almost immediately, "Or the totally gorgeous big sister of my best friend."

I blush, and if I hadn't felt the heat in my cheeks, I would've known it anyway from Spencer's smile.

"Alright, people," Kyla says, finally making her return, "I'm depressed, I'm horny, and I'm tired. Lethal combo, ok? I'm going to sleep. Spence? Are you coming?"

"Yeah, I'm right behind you," she replied, looking at me before trailing my sister up the stairs.

--

I couldn't sleep, waiting for that knock. Waiting for Spencer. But anxious as well. I didn't trust myself in the same room as the blond with the piercing eyes and the easy smile. And how? How could she still be so warm and giving after having lost so much? How could she still resemble a version of herself that was so untouched by harsh reality?

After an hour, I think maybe she won't come. But just as the thought enters my mind, there's the knock.

I nearly run to the door, opening it quietly.

"Hey," she says, stepping inside what had previously been my sanctuary and immediately absorbing its security, "were you sleep?"

"No, I couldn't sleep."

She nods and walks over to sit on my bed.

I absolutely panic.

"Come sit with me," she says, and as I walk towards her I feel it all over again.

I don't stand a chance.

"So…how was um…how was Thanksgiving?"

I'm tripping over flat words as I nervously attempt to remain casual. And she knows it. I can tell that she knows it.

"Thanksgiving is always hard. But Glen and Clay and I tried to…you know, we tried really hard to make everything seem normal. Life before mom and dad…"

"Yeah."

"Yeah."

"Where are they going for Christmas?"

"Glen's going on a trip or something. I think he wants to be alone, and Clay's going to his girlfriend's for a few days. So…"

"And you'll be here."

"I'll be here."

"Spencer, I…"

"Ashley, look…it was just a kiss, ok? We don't have to act like strangers because it happened. I mean, it was two years ago."

"I know."

"But do you? Do you really because you can't even look at me."

I wanted to prove her wrong, but I couldn't bring myself to meet her gaze.

"I know."

"Why, though? We've known each other forever."

"But that's the point, Spence. That's the fucking point."

"What's the point?"

I shifted next to her on the bed. Out of all the potential scenarios that I had created prior to this moment, none of them had indicated I would be the one who would have to mention the unmentionable. Not a single one.

"You're my little sister's best friend. And you and I…we…"

"We kissed."

"You kissed me."

"I know it was two years ago, Ash, but I remember you returning that kiss."

"Maybe."

"No. Definitely."

I blush. I can't help it.

"Fine, I kissed you back. But it was a mistake."

"Was it? Because I don't think so."

"Spencer, you're practically family. Kissing you was just wrong on so many levels."

I can feel that her eyes finally leave my face.

"Ok."

"And it can't happen again."

"Fine, whatever you say."

"A lot has changed, you know."

"Oh, what? You don't kiss girls anymore, Ashley?"

I take a chance and look at her. Her eyes are challenging me and a subtle smirk plays upon her lips.

"That's not what I mean."

"Then what do you mean?"

"Don't make me say it."

"My parents…"

"Yeah, and then you were gone and two years went by. You and I are very different people now, Spence. I'm older and…I know better now. I know that what happened between us was wrong."

"So you said."

"You can't tell me that you don't see how wrong it was."

"I don't know. It felt pretty good to me."

Frustrated now, I raise my voice an octave, "It's not about how it felt. Lots of things feel good. Doesn't make them right."

She nods as if she's considering this, but I know better. Because although years have passed and everything about our relationship is now very different, I still know Spencer Carlin.

"Yeah, maybe so. But I do know one thing."

She stands up and faces me before lowering her mouth to my right ear, causing my body to throw up ten million miniature caution flags.

"You want me to kiss you again."

I expected her to move, but she stayed put. Her lips traveled over the delicate skin around my ear before she released a soft sigh of pleasure.

I couldn't speak. Because everything that entered my head was either unintelligible or a lie. These morals, these hesitations…where did they come from? Who was I trying to convince exactly? Spencer was reading me like an open book anyway.

And so I finally moved forward, tired of backpedaling and attempting to erase what was obviously so permanent. I held her face between my hands, reveling in how good it felt to meet her eyes.

"I do."

"You do what?" Spencer asked, sounding uncharacteristically like a nervous version of herself. The version from two years ago.

"I want you to kiss me again."

"Since when?"

"Since right now."

"Not this time," she replied as she licked her lips and curled her them into a nearly wicked smile, "You kiss me."

I wasted no time, knowing I could lose the courage at any second. I met her lips with mine, standing up to press my body against hers. I needed the contact so desperately that it overruled everything else. Every single rational thought.

"Spencer?"

Kyla's voice. Down the hall. Coming closer.

At first I thought I had imagined it, but the blond suddenly pulled away from me, "I'm in here!"

Spencer gave me a look as if to assure me that we would continue whatever it was we had started later. But it did nothing to halt the want that was now creeping into every inch of my body.

Kyla pushed my door open, her hair a mess and her eyes mostly closed, "I've been looking for you. I woke up and you weren't there."

"Sorry, I couldn't sleep. I didn't want to wake you up so I thought I'd come and um…talk to Ashley."

"If anyone can put you to sleep it's her," Kyla replied with a signature smile.

"Thanks, Ky."

"Anytime, Ash. So…are you coming to bed or are you still wide awake?"

I prayed—literally prayed—that Spencer would stay. She glanced at me first, as if she had to ask permission to lie.

"I think I'll talk to Ashley a little while longer, actually. I'm just not tired yet."

"Yeah, don't worry about it. I'll make sure to put her to bed," I told Kyla, walking over to rustle her hair further.

"Ok, well…goodnight, Ash."

"Goodnight, Ky."

And there we were. Alone again. Spencer stood unsure across the room, eyes cast towards the carpet. I was afraid she had changed her mind.

"Spence…"

"Yeah?"

"You know, nothing has to happen, ok? If you really just want to talk we can do that. No pressure."

"That would be fine with you?" she asked, smirking and closing the space between us with a suddenly more confident body.

"Whatever you want."

"What do _you_ want?"

"I want…"

"Honestly."

"What?"

"Answer honestly."

"I want to do whatever makes you comfortable."

"Oh really?"

"Really," I reply, swallowing hard and shifting nervously.

She's right in front of me now and the proximity without release is a form of torture I'm not exactly used to. I'm not used to being so at the mercy of anyone. I'm Ashley Davies. I make the rules.

Spencer's now close enough for me to feel the soft sensation of her breath on my lips.

Who's making the rules now?

"I don't believe you."

"What are you talking about?" I ask. It's becoming increasingly more difficult to follow the conversation.

"I think you want more than that."

"Ok."

She laughs, "You want me to tell you what I think you want?"

No, because it will send me over the edge of the kind of metaphorical cliff that I can't handle in the moment.

"Fine."

She's whispering in my ear again, "I think you want to see how wet I am…how wet you make me."

Breathe.

Now.

Speak.

Later.

"I think you want to slide your fingers inside me…fuck me hard while I whisper your name so that only you can hear it. Is that want you want?"

I would answer, but I literally cannot form words. She's standing so close.

"Ash, look at me."

I lift me head hesitantly.

"Tell me that's what you want."

Remember who you are, Ashley Davies. Remember who you are.

"No, that's not what I want."

She looks at me. Obviously not the answer she was expecting.

"Um…ok…I thought…"

I silenced her with my mouth, kissing her deep and hard and wet while I unbutton her shirt as quickly as my hands will allow. Her skin is soft and firm in all the right places, but there's no time to offer the attention it deserves. I'm on a pre-ordained mission to make Spencer Carlin come and everything else is trivial in its light. Her jeans are soon around her ankles, but my mouth never leaves hers until I trail a line of kisses down her torso until I'm on my knees in front of her.

I look up, completely still until she notices and stares back at me.

"Spence…"

"Yes?" she replies, her breathing obviously a chore.

"Do you want me to tell you what you want?"


	2. Chapter 2

**_So let me begin my saying thank you. I'm glad that people are excited about this fic and I appreciate the feedback and everything else. This is definitely an "M" chapter. I hope you enjoy._**

**Chapter 2:**

"Yes."

"You want me here," I say, kissing the inside of her thigh as lightly as possible. The skin there is so soft I have to remind myself that she's real, right in front of me after all this time.

Two years.

Two years of wondering what if…

"And you want me here…"

I move my impatient mouth to the area just below her belly button and above the underwear that are nearly pleading with me to be replaced by hands.

"Ashley, why are you doing this?" Spencer whispers above me.

"Because…"

"Because why?"

"Because it's what you want."

She smiles, eyes still closed, "You know what else I want?"

"What's that?"

"A bed. I want a bed."

I laugh and slide up the length of her torso, landing at her lips. She kisses me completely, locking her insecurities and secrets in temporary rooms while she recreates my mouth. When I finally find the will to pull away I lock the door and lead her to my bed, laying her flat and straddling her hips.

"There you are," Spencer says, moving a stray lock of hair behind my ear.

"What do you mean?"

"This is the Ashley Davies I know…the take-control type…confident, aggressive."

"That Ashley never went anywhere."

"Oh, please. Are you kidding? You looked like the new kid in school from the second you saw me and you know it."

"I didn't know what to say. It had been a long time."

"It has," she said with a nod, "but I'll be completely honest with you Ashley. I never stopped thinking about…"

"I didn't either," I replied, cutting her off. For some reason I wasn't quite ready to hear that our three o'clock was still living on in her head. It made all of this seem too real, and I was secretly hoping that this was merely a sex thing. Something I could put to rest with a few simple thrusts and an impending release. Nothing too complicated. Nothing messy. Just two girls coming together to override the power of a memory.

I couldn't forget that.

I leaned forward, sucking gently on her right nipple as my fingers moved attentively over the left. Her sighs and moans created instantaneous wetness that I could feel being absorbed by my boy shorts. My lips began their mission westward but were interrupted when Spencer reached down to remove her own underwear, throwing them into the dark of the room.

Oh.

"I thought you said you knew what I want."

"I do," I replied, moving my fingers playfully along the skin of her thighs.

"Then just…just show me."

I moved my head down, finally resting myself between her legs. She was intoxicating. Every single part of her architecture was built for adoration. I traced the length of her wetness with my tongue, merely sampling when I knew that she craved much, much more.

"Ash…"

I ignored her, unwilling to be led. If she wanted me inside her, she'd have to learn the value of patience.

She dug her nails into my back, and thrust her hips forward to meet my face.

I wasn't easily persuaded. I had witnessed all sorts of Spencer Carlin temper tantrums.

"Ashley, I swear to God."

"What does God have to do with anything, Spence? You wanna talk to God? Pray for strength…and patience."

But then I took mercy on her, slipping my tongue inside her and memorizing the sounds she made. I baptized myself in her fundamental nature and immediately I knew I could taste her from dawn to dusk and never have enough. I would completely forget the definition of _enough_.

Though, her sharp bodily reactions to my touch didn't surprise me. There had been many in my bed and there would be many after her. Because as I said before, we had no future. This relationship would live out its existence _only_ in this bed.

When I felt I was losing her I inserted two fingers as well, relocating my tongue flat against her clit.

"Fuck…right there. No, don't move."

I listened, but only because I could tell she needed to let go, to be exonerated from the torture of experiencing a lesser form of pleasure when fully aware I could give her so much more.

"Harder," "faster," "more."

She repeated her desires over and over while trying her best to remain unheard by my hopefully sleeping sister.

And when it finally happened, when I finally allowed my fingers to curve inside her, we were both awarded with the sweetest, most all-consuming orgasm I had ever had the honor of providing. Watching her naked body ride out the last moments before she was set to return to the real world made it worth the approximately 730 days it had taken for us to reach this moment.

"Ashley…"

"Yeah?" I replied, finally removing myself from my spot between her legs and lying next to her on the pillow.

"That was…"

"Don't worry. There's no need to articulate what it was that you felt right now. I've heard it all before anyway."

She looked hurt for a second, but replaced it quickly with what I guess was a now trademark smirk, "I was going to say that it was really just okay for me. But you're right. I'm sure you've heard that a lot."

I laughed, "Whatever, Carlin."

"So I should go," she said, standing up to pull on her once unnecessary clothes.

Oh.

"Oh, right. We don't want Kyla to be worried."

"Right."

"Spence?"

"Yeah?"

"You're okay with…I mean, you know that this…we can't…"

"I know."

"Cool, great. Good."

"However," she began, pulling her t-shirt over her head as she spoke, "I wouldn't mind maybe…_you know_, once or twice before I leave. It couldn't hurt, right?"

Oh yes it could. What people don't seem to understand is that sex leads to more sex and more sex leads to complications. I had just managed to rid myself of Aiden. I definitely wasn't looking for anything serious.

"Spencer, I don't know."

"Listen, I don't want to date you, ok? I'm not looking to be your girlfriend or whatever. But you're a good fuck and you've yet to see what kind of talent I've picked up myself in these past two years and so I think we should take it for what it is and enjoy what we have—good sex."

She sounded weird. She sounded like…

Me.

"Really?"

"Really."

"No late-night phone calls, no restraining orders, no Valentine's Day expectations?"

"Who do you think you are?" Spencer laughed, "no! Ok? I'm not going to go after you."

"Fine, then same time same place tomorrow night?"

"We'll see," she said, slipping out the door.

She'll be here.

--

It doesn't hurt to lie after all. Sometimes lies can be the very fabric of who we are. And that buoyancy, that buoyancy that comes from lying has been keeping me afloat for as long as I can remember. So, Spencer Carlin had managed to weave herself into my complicated fabric as well. The more she weaved, the more difficult it was to separate her from the lies.

"Ash?"

Kyla startles me and I nearly drop my spoon.

"You've been in outer space lately, I swear. What's with you?"

"What are you talking about? Nothing…I'm fine."

"Oh really? Because you've been working on that bowl of cereal for the past forty-five minutes."

I looked down at my cereal bowl. I'll admit it. My Cheerios had seen better days, but I couldn't help it. Spencer's presence in this house kept me on edge and if she wasn't sneaking into my room late at night, she was sneaking into my thoughts all day. I couldn't win.

These past three days had been painted with narrow lines and even though it hadn't been long, it was already getting harder not to become blind to them.

"Hey, I'm your sister. If you can't tell me what's going on with you, who can you tell?"

"My therapist. Now leave me alone, Ky. I'm fine. I promise."

"But…"

"Drop it."

And she did. But only because Spencer walked in, fresh out of the shower no less.

Ok, Spence.

I get it.

"What's up you two?" she asked with a smile as she sat down next to me at the counter.

"Oh, don't worry about it," Kyla said, making a face in my direction, "I've got to get ready if we're going to get the tree today."

"That's right. Where are you guys going?" I ask, suddenly interested.

I hate Christmas.

I hate the hypocrisy. I hate the crowded stores and the once-a-year cheer, and the fucking reindeer.

But I love the trees.

"Pope's, you know the one like thirty minutes out. They have the best trees," Spencer replied, a strange sadness in her voice.

"We're going to try to make this a good Christmas for you, Spencer. I swear," Kyla said, walking over to throw her arms around the blonde's neck.

"You don't have to go out of your way for me. You know that. Just being here is enough."

"Well if there's anything I can do just let me know, ok? Anything at all."

Spencer smiled and nodded and we both watched as Kyla ran up the stairs to get ready.

"You sure you're ok?" I asked once the coast was clear.

"Not you too, Ashley. Kyla's just trying to be nice, but you know better so don't do this."

"I'm sorry and you're right. I do know better, but I also know that this has to be hard for you. You might have to be some kind of superwoman for Kyla but not for me."

"What do you want me to say?" Spencer asked, throwing her hands up in frustration. Tears threatened to spill from those secretive blue eyes, but held their ground instead.

"Whatever you want. I don't know. I'm sorry that I…I don't know."

"You know what you can do for me Ashley?" she asked after an awkward moment.

"What's that?"

"You can keep fucking me because that's something you actually know about. Don't pretend like you care. It's not attractive on you."

"I do care."

"You do? Ok…alright. Whatever," she replied with a nod as she gathered herself together and followed Kyla up the stairs.

--

Once they left in search of the perfect Christmas tree, the house was quiet and still. My mother usually crept down the halls, listening in to conversations she would later swear were about her. But it seemed as though Spencer and the reality of what had happened kept her in her room at night and nowhere to be found during the day. A woman that fake dissolves when confronted with any sort of realness. Or at least I had always hoped.

The fact that Spencer had doubted my sincerity earlier did not tread easy on my soul. It was all I could think about, slipping in and out of much needed sleep. Much needed because I had spent the previous night being fucked out of my rational mind by the doubting blonde. But still…

Since when does she care? Since when do I care that she cares?

Suddenly my phone vibrated against my thigh, startling me right out of my Spencer musings.

"Hello?"

"Hey, it's me."

"Oh, hi, Aiden. What's up?"

"Wow, you could you sound any more disappointed that it's me?"

"What do you want, a fucking parade?"

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong."

"You can tell me."

"What the hell…nothing is wrong. I swear."

"Nah, I know you, Ashley. Something's up. Spill it."

"First Kyla and now you. Just leave me alone, ok? Everything's fine."

"If you say so."

"What do you need?" I asked, rushing him. I wanted time to think before Spencer and Kyla got back. I needed it. Because every time the blonde entered my realm of possibilities, thinking was a forgotten pastime.

"Well, I was wondering if you wanted to get together tonight. I miss you."

"Aiden, we talked about…"

"Not like that, ok? I just miss hanging out with you. Like, as friends."

"Yeah…yeah, I miss you too sometimes," I replied honestly.

"So how about it? Movie tonight?"

"I don't know. I don't really want to go anywhere."

"Hey, I can bring the movie to you then."

"Like over here?"

"Is that a problem?"

"I guess not."

"Cool, so how about 8:30?"

"Don't bring anything stupid, Aiden. I mean it."

"I won't. I promise."

--

Two hours later there I was, stringing lights onto an oversized tree while Spencer avoided eye contact with me. The lies I was spouting in my inner monologue joined the others because I needed to tell myself that I didn't care. I needed to hold onto something that made sense.

"So what are you doing tonight, Ash?" Kyla asked as she hung gaudy instruments from ample branches.

This was it. This was my chance. If I played this right, I could make Spencer jealous. And is she was jealous…

"Aiden's coming over."

Kyla looked at me with an accusatory smile, "Oh really?"

"We're watching a movie. It's not a big deal. But he did say that he missed me."

Spencer stared at me openly now.

"Of course he misses you," Kyla says, completely oblivious, "he was like, totally in love with you. When does he leave for school?"

"Next week I guess. I really have no idea."

"You think you'll hook up? You know, for old time's sake?"

Um…never.

"Maybe. I haven't ruled out the possibility. But it's like…you don't exactly plan things like that. If it's meant to be and it feels right then you do it."

"Interesting," Spencer said, speaking up for the first time.

"How so?"

This was a challenge now. A game with a winner and a loser and Spencer and I were both novices. But just like with any game, if you're willing to play you have to accept the consequences. I could push the blonde too far. I knew the risk, but I couldn't stop myself.

It was like I lived to make her sweat—in my bed and in this conversation.

"Is that what you want? You want to sleep with a guy who's obviously still into you?"

"Hey, I have needs."

"And they aren't being met?"

Bold move, Spence.

I shrug. There's no right way to answer that. Reveal too much and tip off Kyla or reveal too little and take an unwanted jab at Spencer.

"What is that?" she asks, gesturing at my shoulders, "what does that mean, Ashley?"

"They're being met," I respond quietly.

"Then why do you need him?"

Kyla looked at me now, obviously amused. Obviously still clueless.

"I know where I stand with him. He's honest about how he feels."

Spencer laughs, "And are you honest with him? Does he know how you feel or are you being dishonest?"

"I don't know."

Spencer shrugs now, wearing a victorious smile, "That's what I thought."

--

I don't know how she's managed to maneuver the impossible, but her fingers were trailing invented shapes quickly over my already hot center through the tight material of my jeans. There was no time for foreplay. Besides, the foreplay had begun from the moment she challenged me in front of Kyla, forced me to play a hand I hadn't even known was in existence. She had managed to maneuver the impossible in more ways than one and I didn't know which would bring me more pleasure.

Kyla could walk back in at any moment, having excused herself to make a phone call a few minutes before. Spencer and I hadn't even required words, we simply allowed the magnets that our disloyal bodies had become to move towards the other, my negative to her positive.

"Take these off," she demanded, pawing mindlessly at my jeans.

"You think that's a good idea? She could walk in on us."

Spencer looked up at me with an unexpected smile, her fingers ceasing their much appreciated motions.

"What?" I asked anxiously.

"Why are we hiding from her?"

"Um, because I don't need my sister to walk in on us having sex."

"Ok, I get that part. But why can't she know about us? Do you really think she'd care?"

"But it's pointless, Spence. We're not together. This doesn't mean anything, so why make things all complicated?"

She nods, lowering her eyes. And I don't understand because this is a smart girl. Spencer Carlin is no idiot. So why can't she see right through me? Why can't she see that I'm desperately placing her in a storyline I don't even believe myself, to act out a part that leaves me unsatisfied?

"You're right."

"I'm right?" I ask, letting a drop of my disappointment show. Leaving myself just a little vulnerable in case she decides to make me throw my hands up and give her the truth.

Make me, Spencer. Just ask again.

"You're right that it's stupid to tell her and you're right that she could walk in at any second so maybe we should…"

She doesn't finish, simply shows me what she means by leaving my personal space and sitting in the chair across from me.

"Listen, I still want to see you tonight," I say, trying to salvage something.

Anything. Even the sex that is inevitably going to ruin me.

She laughed humorlessly, "You want to fuck me after you fuck your ex-boyfriend? Did I hear that right?"

"I'm not going to fuck him, ok?"

"You said you weren't ruling it out."

"Well, I am. I _am_ ruling it out."

"That's not what you said."

"I say a lot of things."

"Then I guess I could plan a visit to your room. Around two o'clock?"

I groan softly and without explanation.

"Too late?"

No, merely an anticipatory groan because just the thought of touching you makes me wish for better, more deserving hands.

"No, two is fine. It gives me time to get rid of the boy."

"Then two it is," she replies, studying the blinking Christmas tree lights.

"You picked a beautiful tree, by the way," I say, completely meaning it.

"How do you know I picked it?"

"Because I know Kyla. She would've wanted something small to avoid the hassle of carrying it. But you knew the beauty of the tree was worth a little extra man power and you were right. It's an amazing tree…the best we've had."

"I couldn't leave without it. It was just something about this one. I knew it was going to be a bitch to carry, but I just couldn't…I couldn't settle for less."

I stare at her face as she goes back and forth between illumination and normalcy, the blinking lights having their way with her usual glow.

"I thought you hated Christmas. You've said that as long as I've known you."

I nod, "I do, but you can't not like the smell of a good ol' Douglas Fir, you know? I'm not completely impenetrable."

"Wow, look at you using Thesaurus words," Spencer joked, lazily tossing a pillow in my direction.

"I'm not completely stupid either."

She looks surprised, "I know."

The doorbell rang just as Kyla bounded down the steps. It was as if real life decided to intrude all at once to soften the blow.

"You want me to get it, Ashley?" Kyla asked, walking to the door and swinging it open without waiting for an answer.

I watched Spencer's expression as Aiden entered. It remained the same, still stuck in its position from our conversation.

"Kyla, what's up?" Aiden said, offering her a loose hug.

"Nothing much. You remember Spencer, right?"

"Oh my God, yeah! Of course. How are you?"

Spencer smiles tightly, "I'm good."

I predict the awkwardness that would most certainly creep in given a second of silence and grab Aiden's hand, pulling him up the stairs.

What I would give to have him be Spencer instead. I would close my bedroom door and forget to release her hand for a few hours.

"I hate this movie."

"Ash, I don't even think that's possible. Nobody hates this movie."

"Well, I do. And I'm tired."

"It's only like, 1:30 or something. Are you seriously tired?"

"This is like the fifth movie we've watched, ok? And I didn't get a lot of sleep last night."

"Fine, I get it," Aiden said, lifting himself off of my bed and ejecting the DVD from the player.

"There's nothing to 'get.' I'm just tired. Don't take it personally."

"I'm not."

But he obviously was. Aiden was the most sensitive guy I had ever met, let alone dated and he had the tendency to require more attention than I could ever offer him. But my two o'clock belonged to Spencer. And as the minutes wore down and I got closer and closer to my opportunity to slip my fingers deep inside her, I became increasingly more restless.

"Aiden…"

"It's fine. I'll see you sometime before I leave?"

"Of course…no question."

He nodded, opening my bedroom door and quietly leaving.

Only thirty minutes…

Finding it hard to keep my eyes open, I decided to close them until Spencer came. Half an hour later I was awakened by a gentle kiss to my temple.

"Spence…"

"Shh…" was her only reply as she planted a series of soft kisses across my face.

"I'm sorry."

"Why are you sorry?"

"Because…" I said, pulling her up so she was resting flat on top of me, "I fell asleep."

"It's ok if you're tired, Ashley. We have other nights."

"But I want you here."

Words I would've never said had my mind not been clouded by the honesty of sleep.

"You want me to stay for awhile?"

"I want you to stay all night."

She smiled and kissed me directly on my lips, "You're going to hate yourself for this in the morning."

"But it's not the morning."

"No…no, it's not."

I grabbed her hand and slid it down my torso until it was resting on the hem of my loose-fitting pajama bottoms. My body, which was so sure earlier that it wanted to be in control was now desperate for Spencer's touch.

"Are you sure? Because if you're tired…" she began, but stopped once I moved her hand further, allowing it to come to rest on the front of my underwear.

And she said nothing more, instead easing her fingers inside the fabric and eventually inside of me.

Her fingers slowly feeling their way along my immense wetness forced me to release a low moan. I couldn't help it.

"We have to be quiet, ok?" she said, before inching her fingers further inside.

Those were the last words I heard before my focus became limited to skilled fingers.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Love you, guys. Enjoy.**_

Chapter 3:

Roles reversed.

The fingers that before could only grasp her back with a well-deserved desperation were now teasing her, inching in only to inch out seconds later. A physical symbol of the game at hand.

Her mouth curved into an unimpressed smile. Her hands lingering on my back in the most non-committal way. She said nothing. Instead allowing her face to speak the volumes she refused to as she stared at me straight on. Those electric eyes penetrated the dark, using their technology to keep me right there in the moment with her. It was a challenge, obviously.

Yet another challenge.

She was showing me that I could only bring her so far and the rest was up to her. My hands were merely the replacement instruments for her own, and they left no imprint. They held no permanency in her wet entryway.

But there it was. The one thing that betrayed her coolness. Her aloof composition.

She was overwhelmingly, uncontrollably, undeniably wet.

For me.

"Spence…"

"Ashley."

I shook my head, smiling up at her from my surroundings. My body was buried beneath the suede comforter all the way to my neck. My locale had my mouth just above her belly button.

She was unbreakable. Or so it seemed. And it made me more nervous everyday. Because I was obviously straddling our thin line while she walked carefully along the side. I had only one line of defense.

Without warning I allowed my fingers to correspond with her depths fully, sliding inside until it was impossible to travel any further.

"Fuck…" she sighed, finally writhing beneath me.

Finally closing those determined eyes.

I moved slightly south and brought out all the weaponry, my tongue circling her throbbing clit.

And meaningless fucking between two consenting and recently made adults became something else. I had to prove myself a worthy adversary. I had to break her. I had to seek out her vulnerability and claim it as my creation.

I had to win.

My tongue took on a mind of its own and quickly circles transformed to squares which transformed to crawling hexagons. My fingers moved in and out so purposefully it was if they were stealing a part of her with each thrust. I made sure to leave a mark. I made sure to draw a map for the next time and I left a trail of bread crumbs in the form of her own unfaithful wetness.

Now her thighs wrapped around my upper torso, eliminating the option to stop—not that I had made any plans to.

"Ash…"

Now the shortened version of my name.

"Fucking Christ…"

Now the informal version of the Lord's name—though not necessarily in vain. It carried a faith and intention of its own.

It carried a faith in me.

"Stay…fuck...stay right there. _Right_ there."

Now came the pleading that paraded itself around as an actual demand.

She tasted nothing like a fling or a two-week stand or anything less than a relationship with a promise attached. She tasted like I had waited two years—maybe longer—to finally have her under my lips and every lick, every _shape_ was worth it.

It was apparent that she couldn't wait much longer by the way her hands gripped my hair and the way her mouth whispered my name. So I thrust harder and faster until my tongue comes to a resting place and she herself comes to a series of moans and gyrations. My face takes a beating, but I don't mind.

When the welcomed turbulence has died down and it is safe to unbuckle the metaphoric seatbelt she pulls me up until we're side by side.

"You are really, _really_ good."

I blush as if I've never heard it before, "Well, my muse is pretty inspiring these days."

"I have to go soon," she says with her eyes closed and her mouth fastening soft kisses to the skin of my neck.

"Why?"

"You know why."

"Yeah…"

"Don't get all weird on me, Ashley."

"I'm not."

"Yes you are."

And I knew she was right. I wanted her to spend the entire night, not just a fraction of it. I didn't want to wake up alone.

"It just sucks that I can't wake up with you."

Spencer propped herself up on her left elbow to look at me, her face betraying the slightest sadness, "But you have to. We already talked about this."

"May I ask you something then…you know, before you leave?"

"Go ahead."

I decided to take yet another chance, "Do you…do you…"

"Do I what?"

"Do you feel yourself…like, are you maybe becoming…are you attached at all?"

I anchored myself mentally, waiting for her answer. She looked to be giving the question some thought, which was more than I had expected.

"I guess so."

"Really?" I ask, attempting to hide my excitement.

"Yeah, I mean it's like I've said before. I really, really like having sex with you. It'll be hard to leave it behind when I go back to school."

"The sex you mean?"

"Isn't that what we're talking about?"

"Well," I began, playing mindlessly with a strand of my own hair, "I guess."

"Wait, did you mean something else?"

I shook my head, "No, no, no, no, no. You're right. We have really great sex."

"But I figure we can maybe get together whenever I'm back in L.A., right? Kyla says you're moving out next month."

"I am."

"Perfect."

"Yeah…perfect."

Why I put myself in this position with her again and again, I'll never fully comprehend.

"We can be as loud as we want. We can fuck all over your apartment. The kitchen. The bathroom. Hell, we can fuck in the closet if we need a change of environment. That is, unless we've both met other people."

"Actually I…"

"I guess that doesn't really matter though," she said, cutting me off, "what people don't know can't hurt them."

For some reason this made me think of the morning Spencer found out about her parent's accident. She had spent the night—as usual—and she and Kyla were making breakfast for everyone. I answered the phone that morning. I took that damning phone call myself.

"_Hello?"_

"_Ashley," Glen said, obviously panicked, "is my sister there? She's not answering her phone."_

"_Yeah, she's in the kitchen making pancakes with Kyla."_

"_Well, can you put her on the phone please? It's an emergency."_

"_Whoa, Glen. What's going on? What happened?"_

"_It's mom and dad…they…they were in a really bad accident last night."_

"_Are they ok?"_

"_No. No, they're not ok. Just put Spencer on the phone."_

_I called Spencer to the phone, watching as she walked towards me with an unknowing smile. She had no idea._

"Ash?"

"Huh? Oh, sorry. Did you say something?"

Snapped right back into the present by the blonde herself.

"I was just saying that it's almost five. I'm gonna go now."

"Oh. Right."

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. My brain just went somewhere else, that's all."

Spencer nodded and smiled before standing up to retrieve her discarded clothing. Even though the mood had changed for me with the memory of that ever-changing morning, I had to admire the lush topography that was the unflinching blonde. She was absolutely beautiful. So much so that I felt lucky to be able to bear witness to bare Spencer.

"I'll see you in the morning," she says, as she finishes with the tie of her pants.

"Yeah, see ya," I manage, perhaps a bit too casually for what has just taken place in my bed. But she doesn't seem to mind as she waves awkwardly and exits.

That's right.

_Waves_.

--

I was catapulting again. Apparently I hadn't fallen as far as I thought that first day she reappeared in my life because I had so much further to fall.

So much further.

And there was no more denying it. Maybe I could manage to keep the farce alive in her presence, but I was running out of lies to tell myself. The truth was, Spencer Carlin had worked her way inside and now she was coursing through my bloodstream, heavy and insistent.

The next morning I woke up alone—of course—and made my way to the kitchen. I was going to mend my broken heart with a glass of orange juice and a bowl of Apple Jacks before the entire house joined my morning and ruined my moment of peace. But I was too late.

"Hey," she said simply, sitting at the kitchen table alone.

"Hi," I replied, looking around for the lifejacket formerly known as my sister.

"She's gone."

"Where is she?"

"She went to the mall to do some shopping I think."

"She just left you behind or what?"

"No, I told her I wasn't feeling well…I'm not really up for the mall."

"Are we the only ones here?" I ask nervously.

I was coming to realize that I had no problem being with her in the most intimate of ways, but the thought of having to actually talk to her sent me into a cold panic.

"Your mom left a few minutes after Kyla, so…yeah."

"Oh. Well I'm sorry you're under the weather."

"It's fine. I needed a break anyway."

"From what? From Kyla?"

She shakes her head, but she doesn't answer.  
Then come words without reason or self-editing, "I think I'm going to go for a drive. You want to come?"

I would say that I was unsure of what possessed me to invite her into another aspect of my life besides my hours before dawn, but that would be untrue. I thought that maybe if I could talk to her for more than five minutes I could figure out what she was thinking. I could maybe do a bit of mental unloading myself.

"Are you serious?" she asks, looking at me skeptically.

"You don't have to."

"I mean, what if Kyla comes back and I'm off somewhere with you?"

"I think it'll be ok."

"But…"

"Like I said, you don't have to—especially if you're not feeling up to it."

"No, no…I want to go. Give me a few minutes to shower, ok?"

"Sure," I replied, inwardly grinning in anticipation.

She grinned outwardly and for a second she looked like the naïve, simpler Spencer I used to know. The one from more naïve, more simple times. But then it was gone.

"And maybe if we have time…" she began, lifting her left eyebrow suggestively. I felt betrayed by my own body as an electric current shook every inch.

"We'll see."

--

We drove in silence. We drove to the beat of drums and roar of guitar blaring over the radio. We drove to awkward small talk in which we avoided everything that needed to be said and stumbled over words that we could've gone forever without saying and not missed at all. But the smile…

And the eyes…

And the way she would touch me lightly on the thigh whenever I made her laugh…

It all spoke to me so loudly I felt trapped in the sound of what it all meant. What it all meant for me.

"Spence…"

"Yeah?" she replied, still looking out the window at the rolling California scenery.

"I have a problem."

I wanted to throw enough words out there so that I couldn't go back. I wanted to be forced to come clean and drop the armor.

"What's your problem?" she asked, still refusing to look at me.

But I needed her eyes too much to settle for a moment without them so I turned on my blinker and waited for the traffic to pass to my right.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm pulling over."

"Why?"

I didn't answer. Instead I parked on the side of the road, a cloud of dust settling over the car.

"What's going on?"

Now I had her attention.

"I can't do this with you anymore."

"You can't do what?"

"I can't just…I can't just sleep with you and act like everything is fine. I can't do that."

She shakes her head, annoyed and confused by my tone and my face and my need to pull over, "Then we should stop sleeping together."

The option of never touching her again is an impossible option that I'm incapable of submitting to.

"That's not what I want."

"Then what do you want, Ashley?"

"I want you."

She stares at me, but says nothing.

"Did you hear me? I said I want you. I want all of you. I want more than just…"

"I can't, ok? I don't do relationships."

"But…"

"No, there's no loophole or compromise that can me made here," she says slowly, as if I'm a child instead of the adult I used to be before she reappeared, "I thought we were on the same page, Ashley. If I had known that we weren't then I never would've started this."

"When did you become this person?"

"Oh, please, don't start. I grew up just like you did. It's been two years and I don't know if you remember but a lot of things are different now."

"I know."

She takes off her seatbelt and focuses her gaze on the windshield. She's a million miles away already.

"Listen, I can admit that there was a time when I had a crush on you or whatever. Before…before my parents died. But after I saw how quickly you can lose someone you care about, I knew that relationships just weren't worth the risk. Don't get me wrong, sometimes I need to be close to someone, but even then it's just physical. Like with you."

I knew that the more I threatened her wall of false security, the more reduced our connection would become in her inner monologue. And it wrecked me.

"I wouldn't hurt you. I swear."

"This is such a…" she says, breaking to laugh for a moment before continuing, "this is such a joke. You know what? If I had come into that house talking about how I'm some born-again virgin and I'm not going to have sex until marriage or whatever, you'd be falling over yourself trying to fuck me. But since I tell you I don't want a relationship, you have to somehow break me down and change me. It's bullshit and it's a game and I'm not willing to sacrifice myself in order to help you win your fucking prize. Take me to your house."

"It's so not like that."

"Take…me…to…your…house. Now."

I shook my head. Everything had gone wrong and I knew that it would, so why would I be filled with so much disappointment? She had said nothing I hadn't predicted she would say. Still…

"Could you just wait," I pleaded, clutching her hand, "could you just let me say something first?"

"It's your car, I guess. Say whatever you want."

"I know that the past couple of years have been hell for you. And I know that what happened left a permanent mark on who you are. I get that. But you have to know that you can't keep fucking people forever…avoiding real intimacy or whatever it is that you're doing. And I care about you. I really do. I hope you know that. So if you ever change your mind or you want to talk to someone, then I'm here."

"Is that all?"

"Yeah…yeah, I guess."

"Good, now take me home. Please."

And so I did.

Because I had no choice.


	4. Chapter 4

Enjoy, everyone. Thanks for the feedback!

**Chapter 4:**

**--  
**

And she didn't talk to me—for days. The bodily compass she had used to navigate those dark halls at night on the way to the refuge of my room became obsolete.

I missed her touch. More than anything I missed her touch.

So I paraded around her like a fourth grade boy begging her to take notice and crash her eyes into mine. But I did this in vain because I was quickly learning that Spencer Carlin's walls were made of determination and she was determined not to talk to me.

If Kyla noticed the sudden rift between us than she stayed mute about it, instead opting to go about the daily routine as usual. She and Spencer were out of the house almost all day sometimes and this gave me time to pretend like everything was back to normal—the way things were before Spencer's visit. But it was no use.

Everything was pointless.

Everything lacked the extra mile.

Because everything was insincere.

I wanted her back more than anything, though I was fully aware I had never attained her at all. But just the illusion that I had won her over in some way would have been enough for me. I was willing to take her in any form because my standards of living declined every time she stood directly across from me and refused to meet my eyes.

After three days, I finally gathered enough desperation to take matters into my own incapable hands. I cornered her late at night when I heard her slip out of Kyla's room and make her way towards the bathroom. I convinced myself that it was the habitual nature of our nights spent together that kept her using the hallway bathroom as opposed to the one in Kyla's room. Maybe she still enjoyed roaming the halls with the promise of some form of release greeting her at her destination. Maybe she missed me. Maybe she simply liked that particular bathroom. None of it mattered. I just had to make her talk to me.

"What are you doing?" she asked as I grabbed her, practically dragging her to my room by her arm.

"I need to talk to you."

"Ashley…" she sighed, but she allowed herself to be led into my room.

And she allowed me to close and lock the door behind her.

And she allowed my hand to come to rest on her own, our fingers weaving together.

"I miss you. I just…I don't understand why you can't talk to me. If this doesn't mean anything to you then why can't you fucking look at me?"

"I don't want to lead you on. I don't want you thinking there's hope when there's none. And I'm sorry if I'm upsetting you but there's really nothing I can do."

"There was a time, Spence, when I couldn't get rid of you…do you remember?"

She nodded, staying silent so I could continue.

"You would be everywhere all the time and I never knew it was because you…because you had a crush on me or whatever. The thought never even entered my head because you were my little sister's best friend. And you were so off-limits that it wasn't even…and now I'm just some holiday fling for you."

"I don't know how to say this," Spencer said, freeing herself of my hand and sitting on the edge of my bed, "but whatever happened between us…it wasn't just a fling, ok? It was more than that because for as long as I could remember it was all I wanted. How you could be completely clueless to the fact that I liked you is ridiculous. When I was a kid, I just thought that I wanted to be just like you. But as I got older, I realized that it was more than that. I realized that I had feelings for you and it scared me. I can admit that. So seeing you when I walked through that door this time…yeah, it was weird for me. I wasn't the same little girl you had watched grow up, you know? I kept growing for two years but you weren't there to see it and now you're shocked because I'm not the innocent sixteen year-old you knew. I can't go back, Ash. I can't change what's happened."

"But if that's true…if you liked me the way you're saying, how can you treat this like it means nothing to you? You wanted me, Spencer? Well here I am. Here I fucking am and you're running. From what I can see, that's like, what you _do_ now and I'm not buying it. Just admit that you're scared, ok? Admit that ever since your parents died you're afraid of letting people in and getting hurt. But don't act like I don't mean anything to you all of a sudden because I can see it in your eyes that I do."

"I love you, Ashley. Like a friend. Like my best friend's big sister."

"No, you love me like a person who held my hand while she was inside me. And you love me like a person who smiles at me like we share something so much bigger than we even realize. And you love me like a person who's willing to let herself be dragged in here in the middle of the night after days of acting like I don't exist."

"I could see you losing your cool and I was embarrassed for you."

"I don't believe you."

"You don't have to, but it's the truth and if you can't accept it then it seems like _you're_ the one in denial. Not me."

I shook my head in frustration, resting from walking the circles she had us going in. And in that moment I could feel myself losing faith that I could reach her.

"Whatever, Spencer. Fine. I won't bother you anymore, ok? Obviously whatever's really going on with you is bigger than me."

"Nothing is going on with me."

"Are you fucking kidding?" I say, finally angry at her.

"No, I'm serious. I'm fine Ashley. You're the one that's freaking out."

"Oh, I'm freaking out?"

"Uh-huh, yeah. You're freaking out."

But she didn't leave. Despite the fact that we were going nowhere fast, she didn't leave. She stayed right there on the edge of my bed, daring enough to actually smile. Before I knew it, I was smiling too because there was nothing else to say and nowhere else to move and it was all too much to do anything else.

"What am I supposed to do now?" I asked myself aloud, surprised when a voice besides my own answered.

"What do you mean?"

"I look at you and I…every time I see you it just gets worse. And I miss the freedom I had three days ago to touch you and look at you and…this isn't getting any better for me."

"God, it's amazing how the tables turned. That used to be me, walking around this house scared to run into you because I knew I would say something totally un-cool or do something you thought was lame. I don't know. Now here you are scared of me. It's crazy."

"I guess my timing sucks."

"Yeah," she says, laughing a little, but mostly focused on meeting my eyes for the first time in so long. It's as if she's this focused on purpose. Like she's letting me know that she's still behind her skin somewhere—just in hiding.

"Can I just…will you stay?"

I'm immediately embarrassed that I can't stop myself from asking.

"It's not a good idea."

"I know. But will you do it anyway?"

It takes her a moment but she stands up and physically considers whether or not she should oblige me. And she does. She walks towards me and I set my lips to receive her kiss but am met instead with a gentle hug. Her arms wrapping around me feels so good I can barely stand it.

"I can't…I can't because I don't want to hurt you anymore," she whispers into my ear.

"But I hurt regardless. You don't understand."

"I do."

"You don't."

"I wish that I could be with you, ok?" she says, squeezing me tighter, "but I don't want to lose you. I couldn't handle that because you mean so much to me, Ashley. You know that, right?"

I don't answer, instead I take advantage of the fact that I have her in my arms again. It's all I can think about, until I feel her shift slightly and now her lips are on mine. And we're both getting into something we know we can't handle.

--

_Spencer:_

I wake up to her sleeping frame beside me, her body rising and falling with the tide of each breath. She's close enough to touch, but I'm already too far away to let it happen. I have the journey to make, after all. Down the hall and back to Kyla's room, leaving Ashley alone to sort out the miscellaneous, tragic pieces in the morning. Touching her once would mean touching her a hundred times, and I'm already running out of minutes before the sun breaks and falls upon her face, leaving her all too real in its light and still accompanied by me—the girl who's effortlessly breaking her heart.

But I can't help it. I have to. So I reach out and reclaim her as my own personal canvas, painting abstract figures on her naked torso. Last night she had held me close to her heart as she came, refusing to call out my name. Instead she whispered "don't stop" in my ear and kept me in place with her thighs. Maybe her words had meant something, but I didn't have the luxury of taking them in any way other than at face value. Ironic considering the fact that I could barely manage to look at her face as she held me. I was disappointed in myself for offering up my body in exchange for her silence. But I couldn't hear her pleading with me to be someone that I just wasn't anymore. I just needed the words and the lips forming them to be still and receive the only thing I could give. I needed her to eat what she was fed.

And now I tried again to remove myself from her ideal situation and back into reality, but I'm finding it more difficult than usual. Before I have the time to proceed with what I know I have to do, she slowly begins to rouse from her not-so-deep sleep. My heart stops and I cease all movement as if this will somehow bring us back to the moments before when I could have done something to prevent this.

"Spencer?" she asks, obviously surprised to wake and find me here.

"Yeah."

I don't know what to say. I want to extricate myself but I can't.

"What are you…why are you still…"

"I fell asleep. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you."

"You didn't wake me. And besides, it's nice. It's nice to have you here," she replies with a smile that almost makes me smile too. And this is what I feared, wasn't it? That she would take my presence as an admittance of feelings that I simply do not have. Wanting to reach out and touch her as she sleeps doesn't mean that I want her. Being unable to evacuate the confines of our post-coital bed is explained through the fact that I was simply exhausted. I'm not in love with her.

Because I can't be.

I won't allow it.

"No, it's not nice. It's another really bad idea and I have to go before Kyla wakes up."

"I know," she murmurs sadly.

No matter how badly I want to leave her side, I can't stand to leave her like this. Sad. Lonely. Defeated.

That's not the Ashley I'm used to. This isn't the Ashley I grew up with.

"Hey, I'm sorry, ok? Last night was really great. I mean, it always is with you. But let's not give it more value that it's worth."

Her face only falls that much more.

"That's not what I meant. It's just that…"

I'm at a loss for the right words, so I give my fingers permission to speak and I slowly draw an invisible line down the side of her face. The skin there is so soft that I almost lean down and press my lips against it as well.

But I don't. I have to exert _some_ amount of control before this is all over.

"I swear I don't mean to say stuff like that. I have completely different words in my head and by the time I open my mouth all this honesty rushes out instead," she admits, rubbing her thumb along the inside of my arm.

"It's ok. Don't worry about it."

"Is it?"

"It is. But it doesn't change anything. You know that, right?"

"Right. Because you don't _do_ the relationship thing."

"Exactly."

She nods her head. The action causing my fingers to slide south, resting finally and awkwardly on her chin.

"I still have to go."

"Then go."

"I can't," I say softly.

It's the only time throughout this entire ordeal that I've actually felt cruel. She couldn't handle the truth right now. It was absolutely the last thing she needed. But at the moment—at that very specific moment—that was just the way I felt. And I needed to say it. These unsaid words were setting up camp on my chest and some of them had to come off before they utterly and completely suffocated me.

"Why?"

"Because I just can't."

"Then try," she said, finally seeing how uncomfortable I suddenly felt.

"I've tried."

She nodded again, but this time it was much more confident. She had regained an ounce of her power. And with it, she chose to kiss me. She risked it almost immediately.

It didn't go unnoticed by me. In fact, it went _so_ noticed that my unsaid words manifested themselves in liquid form and began to fall down my face.

I was revealed.

Betrayed by gravity.

"Are you…are you crying?" she asked, pulling away from me to look into my pooling eyes.

"I guess so."

"But why? Is it me? Did I do something wrong?"

"No, you're…you…"

"Are you ok?"

"No, no I'm not ok."

And there it was.

The root of everything.

"You have to talk to me, Spencer. You have to talk to somebody before you explode."

No sooner had she said it did it happen. She had become my personal prophet and she could only watch her prediction breathe life as I ruptured.

My secrets oozed and creeped out of hiding, shivering and splitting through my tear ducts. I just deflated. She punctured a fine hole in my protective coating and I absolutely deflated, leaving behind fragments of an inadequately glued together shell of Spencer Carlin.

"Oh, Spence," she whispered as she held me, "it's ok. Please, please let it out."

I would've responded, but my body was too busy flooding and shaking against her for speech.

I cried for my mother and my father, and for the rift that had come between my brothers and I because of the losses, and I cried for the way everything was _supposed_ to turn out, and I cried for myself. I cried for this version of myself that I no longer agreed with or recognized.

And somehow after it was all said and done, I cried for the gentle brunette in front of me who had walked into my mess unknowingly and had stayed around to sort it out despite me.

"Hey," she said after my shaking had finally subsided, "this is good, ok? This is what needs to happen. You have to let it out at some point. You can't carry it all because you'll drown. It'll just drown you. And you have to let someone else help shoulder the load. I would be honored if you would let that person be me. At least for now."

I nod, wiping the remainder of the tears from my face, "Is that really what you want?"

"That's really what I want."

So right there in the comfort of her bed, I unloaded two years of baggage. Immediately feeling a million pounds lighter, I made room for her instead. I replaced the load with Ashley Davies and I let her sweet, beautiful sincerity fill me to the brim.


	5. Chapter 5

_Some of you are asking where you can go and find this story completed and I thought about it and....wouldn't that ruin the fun? I mean, don't you enjoy having to wait? No? Ok. Well you can find it on , but I suggest reading this way for the original experience. I'm combining chapters still, so that means we'll be done probably by next week if not the end of this one. Then I'm posting "The Dennison House" which is another story of mine that has a follow-up story coming in November or early December. I want to make sure you guys have "Dennison" up and finished so you can be right on track for the follow-up. That being said, your feedback has been extremely generous and I appreciate it so, so much. Enjoy this chapter._

**Chapter 5:**

I let her sleep. I left her right there in that bed that had suddenly and without a moment's notice become the safest haven I had ever known. I tiptoed down the hall and slipped in bed beside Kyla, who was luckily still very much asleep. And I thought to myself that upon my return everything was somehow a little different. I was yet to see _how_ different, as that could only be determined in the light of a new day, but still…

Different.

I had left the smallest bit of my burden with Ashley, trusting that she could handle it. In its wake I felt lighter. Stronger. Better. I wanted to somehow communicate how important that difference was through words, but everything seemed deeply inadequate after the words she had said to me as she absorbed my tears with her own. Her eyes said that she knew. I had to trust that she did.

"Spencer…"

Kyla's voice broke through my thoughts, completely startling me wide awake.

"Hey…hey…hi, what's up?" I mumbled, turning to face her.

"Where did you go?"

"Huh?"

"You left a long time ago and you didn't come back."

"I'm not sure I know what you…"

"You leave a lot. Where do you go? You leave all the time…why?" she asked, eyes still closed.

"I have trouble sleeping, that's all. I usually go um…I usually just watch TV downstairs or something."

"Oh."

"I didn't mean to make you worry."

"I wasn't worried. I was just curious."

She was quiet for awhile and I took it as a sign that this conversation was at least temporarily over, so I pulled the covers up to my neck and finally shut my eyes.

"Ashley has trouble sleeping too," Kyla said softly, before effortlessly falling asleep all over again.

-----------------

The next day went on as next days tend to go on after life-altering events. Easier than predicted, the previous day dissolving into its predecessor, never leaving an unattended throne. Of course there were things.

Small things.

Major things.

Major things disguised in small garb.

So maybe I was falling all over again. Because every time she looked at me a wall dropped and the glacial shell protecting my heart began to melt away. Her eyes could just do that.

And so they did.

I knew that we could only hide what was bubbling at the surface for so long. Kyla could be oblivious sometimes, but eventually she always came around and around was obviously coming soon.

So we waited all day. Ashley's hands would lightly graze mine under tabletops and eyes would meet across them while we waited for the accusation.

"So I was thinking, Spence," Kyla said, flipping through the latest issue of _Cosmo_ and sipping from a can of Diet Coke, "we've gotta do the Davies-Carlin Christmas Movie Marathon. We've put it off long enough."

"I beg to differ, actually" Ashley interjects, eyeing me once again.

"No, no. You're right. We've got to do it. It's tradition."

"Some traditions are meant to be broken."

"Ashley, you're a freaking Scrooge. No one's talking to you, ok?" Kyla joked, feigning anger as she stares her sister down.

"Fine, but you have to tell me what time this is happening so I can conveniently be out of the house."

"I think you should stay and marathon with us," I say, giving her a look that's meant to drive the point home.

"Sorry, Madam Carlin, but I don't do Christmas movies. And guess what? Last year when you weren't here, I was stuck watching that crap with her. And the year before that. I'm definitely not being dragged into it when you're finally here to lift the burden. Uh-uh, no way."

"Ashley, come on. It's going to be fun. We'll even watch your favorite."

"I don't have a favorite. I hate them all. That's the point."

I shook my head. I wanted her to stay. I wanted her sitting next to me, her fingers pretending to be innocent parties as they made their way inside the band of my yoga pants…

"Don't even try, Spence. I had to bribe her with money last year. Year before that it was…wait, it was money that year too," Kyla said, scanning the pages of her magazine.

Maybe I would have to bribe her as well.

"Ky, just let me know when you want to go rent the movies, alright? I'm in desperate need of a nap."

"I bet. You were up late last night," Kyla said, finally making eye contact.

Ashley looks panicked as I try to assure her with my eyes that I could handle this.

"Yeah, I totally got sucked in by the TV last night. Before I knew it, it was morning."

"You didn't talk to Ashley at all? I could've sworn I heard voices coming from her room when I got up to go to the bathroom."

Ok, so maybe all of a sudden I wasn't so capable of handling this. Maybe I never was.

"Oh yeah, um…I did talk to her for awhile now that I think about it. Yeah, of course."

Ashley nodded, "We talked for awhile."

"What do you guys talk about?"

Ashley and I glanced at each other, wondering who was going to make up the first lie to remedy this line of questioning.

I felt compelled.

"I don't know…stuff, you know? We talk about…"

"Books?" Ashley said hesitantly.

"Yeah, books. We talk about books. Or like, celebrity gossip."

The brunette bobbed her head, "Uh-huh, we do. Um…and like, boys."

Boys?

"Yeah, we talk about boys sometimes."

"Oh, ok. Well, Spence, if you ever can't sleep and you want to talk to me just wake me up, ok? I can talk about boys too," Kyla said, closing her magazine and hopping off of her bar stool, "so, you still taking that nap?"

"I think so, yeah. Um, so I'm going upstairs then…if anyone…needs me."

I made my way across the kitchen and up the stairs, taking them two at a time. I couldn't fight the nagging feeling that Kyla knew and was waiting for me to tell her. If she was waiting for me to finally confess that not only had I been sleeping with her sister behind her back for the past week, but that I had been madly in love with her since we were in the seventh grade, it wasn't happening. And it didn't need to. I was leaving in less than a week anyway and it wasn't like Ashley and I were going to be able to continue this song and dance routine anywhere into the distant future.

Do I like her? Of course.

Do I like fucking her? Oh, indeed.

And had she maybe touched me in a way that no one else has yet to since my parent's passing? Sure.

But a relationship is another story and a long-distance relationship is _another_ story printed in some incomprehensible language and I wasn't going to give into it.

I hope.

-------------------------

I wake up to soft breaths on my face and fingers in my hair, and I revel in it before opening my eyes to the brunette I had hoped to see.

"Hey," she says simply, before she leans down to kiss me.

I know that we are both well aware of the fact that this moment is pretending to be performed by two someones we are not. And I know that we are both well aware that our acting is strangely convincing. Our lines come too easy and our improvisation seems scripted.

"Kyla?"

"She went to go rent movies. She didn't want to wake you up."

"Oh…but you did?" I ask with a sneaking smile.

"Uh-huh. Is that ok?"

"Get in here," I say, holding up the comforter to allow her entrance into the warmth of this urban tent, "how long do you think we have?"

"Let's see," she replies, sliding beside me and throwing her arm over my exposed waist, "she left like two minutes ago…and I think she said she had to run by the store too, so…we have time."

"Yeah, but how much time?"

"We have time," she repeats, and then she begins.

And once she begins…

Her mouth is everywhere, and my tongue seeks out the warm estuary that is her mouth again and again. Because the truth is, we don't have time. We have a week. I have a week to commit all this to memory because there's no realistic way to travel back. To travel back to the beginning when two weeks seemed almost as long as the two years that had preceded it.

But right now she is casually anchored to my body. Right now her lips are footstepping down my neck and taking the time necessary to make the simple kisses feel like so much more than they actually are.

"Ash, I…I…"

There's so much I want to say to her. But the words I want to say haven't been created yet so instead I trail my hands down the aisle leading to her loose-fitting jeans. I just want to feel myself inside her. I don't have time for anything else.

"Let me touch you," I say beside her ear, knowing the words are pointless even as I say them. If there was ever a time when she would deny me access to any continent of her body, it wouldn't be now. So as my hands slip inside her underwear, wet with everything I can do to her outermost exterior, she's giving permission in heavy sighs and light scratches under the material of my sweatshirt. She's signing the dotted line with dotted kisses across my face and thighs cloaking the circumference of my lower torso, only surprising me when she frees a hand from under my shirt and uses it to lift my chin, bringing my eyes to hers.

"Before we…before anything happens you have to let me know something."

"Anything," I answer quickly, surprised all over again by the words tumbling out of my lips.

"Tell me that you're ok…that maybe something changed for us this morning."

"Yeah, of course. Of course."

"How?"

"How…like, what do you mean, 'how?'"

"Just what I said. _How_ are things different?"

"This morning wasn't easy for me. It's not very often I feel comfortable or safe enough to let my guard down like that. But for whatever reason I felt really, really safe with you and so…I guess I trusted that you wouldn't judge me or expect…I don't know, Ash. I don't know how to explain it."

"No, no…you were fine," she responds with a pleased smile.

"Really?"

"Really."

"Good."

She averts her eyes suddenly, and we're quiet for several moments, bodies still pressed together border to border.

"What's going on in your head?"

"Everything…nothing."

"Don't be so cryptic. It's not fair."

"It's not fair?" she replies, letting go of a small chuckle.

"Yeah, you want me to tell you everything. It's not fair that your secrets get to stay your secrets and mine don't."

She nods, staying silent a second more before finally speaking, "I'm going to miss you like crazy, Spence. I don't know how I'm going to be apart from you. Like…like, how do…so I just go on like nothing ever happened? Like you were never here and we never…"

"No, we'll talk on the phone and we'll see each other whenever I come home from school and…"

"I guess you don't get it."

"I get it, Ash, but there's only so much I can do about it. I'm in school and you're here. It's just the way it is."

She doesn't say anything. She simply slides my hand back down and leads my fingers until they're inside her.

I'm not sure what she really wants, but my fingers move instinctively so the decision about what I should do becomes a forgotten one.

But her eyes are wide.

And her mouth is silent.

And her body is still.

Everything's wrong with the way she's reacting.

"I can't do this without you here," I say quietly, "I think it might even be illegal."

She's in no mood for light joking.

"I love you, Spencer."

"What?"

_What?_

However, the clarification will only confirm the words that I'm already sure she's said. And then it will consequently render me speechless and unworthy. There is no anticipation in hearing her say it again.

"I love you. I want to be with you."

No, no, no, no, no…

This is the last thing I need to hear from her. The _very_ last thing. And the way her eyes are challenging mine for the truth she knows I can't give her…it's almost not fair.

"Spencer, say something. _Do_ something."

"Wha…" I shuffle needlessly on top of her, "what do you want me to say?"

"I don't know. I'm not exactly looking for you to reciprocate. I mean, don't get me wrong, I would really love it if you would. But anything, you know? Just say what's in your head."

And I almost want to say it right back. Actually, those three words are running red lights trying to escape my mouth, but luckily I was blessed with a brain.

"Ashley, I really don't want to hurt you anymore. I really don't."

She nods and lets me continue, "But I'm not really in a place where I can make any sort of commitment or say things that I can't afford to say."

"I understand," she replies, and I can tell she does because all of a sudden she looks desperately sad.

"If I could…If I could give myself completely to a relationship. I mean, _really_, really involve myself then it would be you. I would want to be with you."

"Really?"

There is now a ray of hope on her features where sadness used to live.

"Really. I love…I love being with you, Ash. This trip has just reminded me of that."

My hands have found a home on her thighs and as I say this I can feel them twitch.

"In that case…proceed."

"Proceed?"

"Yeah…proceed," she says again, moving my hands back inside her jeans.

I smile at this, amazed at how easily she's appeased. Then again, I guess when you're in love you sometimes make the mistake of settling for a person's inadequacies just to keep them where they are.

"What if Kyla comes home?"

"Beats me not coming at all," she laughs.

And so I settle too, knowing that we're risking being caught. But I want to keep her right where she is, so I slide my fingers inside of her, roughly casting her light blue underwear aside. She's still unbelievably wet, especially for a girl who had just put her heart on the line again only to have some unstable, unworthy blonde gently hand it back.

My fingers are moving furiously fast, attempting to make their best time. My thumb grazes her clit again and again in a circular motion, its intent to drive her absolutely mad. It's working, because she's shaking almost violently under me now and her moans are nearly musical in nature. My thrusts meet the keys and pluck the strings of her bodily instrument and in turn she sighs the most perfect melodies directly into my ear. Her hands grab at the bed posts and they remind me that this is all happening in Kyla's bed.

In Kyla's bed.

And I should stop.

God, we should stop.

But I'm a human composer and I couldn't stop now if I wanted to. In fact, I believe that if the ceiling fell right there on top of my thrusting body, I would fuck her through the rubble and dress my wounds later.

"Spencer, I…" Ashley whispers in my hair.

We both know what she wants to say, so I only thrust harder. I close her mouth by way of her wet center. She groans, her arms loose around my neck.

"Spence, look at me."

I back away a little until our faces are centimeters apart. Her breath on my lips.

"I know that you love me…even if you can't say it," she says through heavy pants and moans, "I just do."

Then she comes.

--------------

A few hours later two Davies and one Carlin are sitting awkwardly on one couch—again. The only difference this time is that Kyla has conveniently placed herself in between me and Ashley because…

She _so_ knows.

It's not the way she keeps glancing back and forth between the two of us as we watch "It's a Wonderful Life". It's not the way she insists on making comments about how close Ashley and I are becoming as the days of my visit wear on. No, it's simply the way she looks at me.

I've known Kyla since the day my memory begins and it doesn't take much for me to read her. And right now her signals were coming in loud and clear. Her stare indicates that she's frustrated with my secrecy and betrayed by my sudden and unexpected bond with her sister. I can't say I really blame her, but there's nothing I can do. I wouldn't even know where to begin.

"I hate this movie," Ashley says, chewing loudly on popcorn.

"Of course you do. It's about being grateful for what you have. What would you know about that?" Kyla asked, coldly.

Ashley looked slightly surprised, but recovered before answering, "I'm appreciative, ok? I just hate sitting anywhere for twenty hours. Like seriously, how long is this movie?"

I laughed, "It's pretty long."

"Well sorry you guys. If you'd rather go _'talk'_ for twenty hours, please feel free. I mean, don't let me stop you."

"No way! I'm not going anywhere. This is our movie marathon and I'm down for the whole thing."

Kyla just looks at me.

"Yeah, calm down, Ky. I was only kidding," Ashley said, grabbing her sister's arm and turning her around until they're face to face.

"Who even invited you?"

Whoa.

"Spencer invited me."

"Ah, yes…Spencer. I forgot you two are in love now."

"What are you talking about?" I ask, nervously.

"Don't, Spence, ok? Just don't."

Kyla stands up, practically running away from the couch and up the stairs. Her loud footsteps are reminiscent of shit hitting the fan and all Ashley and I can do is stare at each other and listen as Jimmy Stewart attempts to make sense of this wonderful life.


	6. Chapter 6

_**You guys are so good to me. Feedback has been incredible. May I encourage more? **_

**Chapter 6:**

"We have to do something. Someone has to go talk to her," I say, feeling paralyzed as I remain glued to the couch, counting all the possible ways she could've guessed. Coming down to just one lone answer.

It's obvious.

Because it's so ridiculously obvious.

"I know, I know," Ashley replies, her eyes staring back at me but the person behind them a million miles away.

"I'm serious."

"I know."

"Then why aren't you doing anything? Why are you just sitting there?"

"I guess I could ask you the same thing."

"But she's your sister!"

"But she's _your_ best friend!"

We were solving nothing and the worst part about it was that it was completely on purpose. Who would want to make the journey upstairs, look in Kyla's face after lying to her for a week, and then try to make excuses for a crime with no excuse.

We should've told her.

I could mold and knead the clay of our actions a million times over and still…

We should've told her.

"Enough of this, I'm going up there," Ashley said suddenly, interrupting my thoughts. She stood up and made her way all the way to the stairs before I stopped her with my voice.

"No, wait. Let me."

"She's my sister."

"Well, she's my best friend," I replied, walking over to where she stood.

"Are you sure, Spence?"

"It has to be me. Just…" I said, trailing off as I climbed the stairs.

They had suddenly become some sort of cinematic stage replica, turning and twisting and building themselves as I reached the top, breathless and scared. I wasn't used to lying to her. Years ago in the dark of her room under the safety of a make-shift fort we had made a pact. A pact that detailed promises of honesty and loyalty forever. No matter what. And as I had allowed myself the luxury of Ashley, I unknowingly wrote a clause in the air of that moment ten years ago and rendered it all meaningless. I had lied.

I had slept with her sister.

I knocked quietly at first. When that didn't work I tried again—harder and louder.

"What?"

Her voice was cold on the other side of that door.

"It's me, Ky. Can I come in? Can we please talk about this?"

"There's nothing to talk about. Go away."

"Don't do this. I know I messed up but you have to let me explain, ok? Just let me explain…please?"

She was silent for a long moment before finally answering, almost too softly, "It's open."

I opened the door slowly, as if her room was now a place my body knew I didn't deserve to be.

"Thank you," I said, looking at the tear-streaked face of my best friend as she sat on her bed. Knees pulled tight to her chest.

"What do you want to say?"

"You know I didn't mean for this to happen."

"Yes you did, Spencer. I'm not stupid."

"I don't…I'm not exactly following…"

"You've always wanted her—even when we were younger I could tell that she was part of the reason you wanted to be here."

"You know that's not true!"

"Oh, it's not? Because I think this past week proves me right."

"I was here for _you_, and yes, I guess you're right. I always had a crush on Ashley but she's not the reason I wanted to be here. You're my best friend, Ky. We've been through everything together."

"I call _you_. I write _you_. I text _you_. Ever since your parents died you've been different. And I understand that you're different because everything completely changed, but I thought we could still be close. I wanted to be there for you more than anything and you just shut me out. Then this morning I walk down the hall looking for you and I hear voices coming from Ashley's room. And you're in there with her…crying and…she's holding you…"

"How do you know that? How do you…"

"Because I saw it. You were both too…," she says, drawing large shapes in the air with her hands, "and you didn't hear me open the door."

"I'm so sorry, Kyla. I don't even know what to say."

"Yeah, well…"

"No, wait. I have to say this, ok?" I say, "I don't know how to make this better or what to say, but you have to know that I never meant to hurt you. Because you mean so much to me, Ky. And sometimes it's hard to talk to you because it reminds me of…it reminds me of when everything was different."

"And Ashley doesn't?"

"Ashley doesn't expect me to be the same person I was before the accident."

"I don't expect you to be anything or anyone but Spence. My best friend."

"But that's the thing. I don't really know who Spencer is right now. I'm trying really hard to move on and be this person who's really strong and…sometimes I feel like it's not working. Sometimes I feel like all I'm doing is pushing people away and the truth is, I can't do this alone. I can't do this all by myself."

The tears are streaming down my face now. One for everyone and for every loss and for every lie.

"You don't have to, Spencer."

I nod, allowing her to wrap her arms around me and draw my shaking body into her space.

"I'm not mad about Ashley. I'm sad that you didn't feel like you could tell me but I'm not mad about _her_, you know?"

"But if you are then it's fine because you have every right to be. I mean, she's your sister."

"Oh, but come on. I haven't been deaf and blind to all this for the past ten years. You look at her like she's the answer to some all-important question and if you've gotten her to actually admit she has feelings for you then that's really saying something."

"But it doesn't even matter, Kyla. I leave in a week and then what? We can't make this work."

I pull away and sit on the edge of her bed, burying my face in my hands.

"You can make it work."

"You don't know that."

"Spencer, you have to try. You have to at least be willing to try."

I look up and meet her eyes, "I think it takes a little more than that, Kyla."

Then suddenly Ashley's standing in the doorway looking more scared than I had ever seen her…

--------------------------

_Ashley:_

I don't know how it happened, exactly. Something about sand through an hourglass, minutes in a day, the seconds that form one missed opportunity after another. This was it. She was leaving, apparently staying with some extended family in Ohio before returning to school. How we had managed to avoid the gigantic, growing, practically vocal elephant in the room was beyond me. How we could let it shift and sigh and fill the air with its presence and do nothing, I would never comprehend. But then again, I couldn't comprehend a lot of what had happened this last two weeks. Somehow she had taken fourteen days and carefully unbuttoned a layer of sanity I hadn't missed until just now as I watched her throw her remaining articles of clothing into a giant suitcase. And the eye contact of yesterday was now just that. She hadn't looked at me all day. Maybe she knew what I knew. Maybe she knew that if she gave me any ounce of hope to go on I would beg her to give us a chance. I would plaster myself against that fleeting body and beg for what we deserved.

"Spence, your phone is ringing," Kyla said, softly, pointing to Spencer's vibrating purse.

My sister hadn't received the memo that her friend had, so she spent most of the morning staring at me, waiting for me to react. How I reacted to all of this would cue her as well and she would act accordingly. For the first time in as long as I could remember, she was choosing to take my side on this.

"Oh."

Spencer walked quickly over to her purse as Kyla stared intently at the side of my face. I wouldn't let her communicate with me in any way, because if she did that would be the end. I would give myself up right there, toss up every single card, sound every alarm and cry. She would allow me the insight into the reality of my situation and I just couldn't go there yet. Especially when it would be forced upon me at any minute whether I was ready or not.

"Hello? Oh…ok…yeah, sure…I'll be ready…no, sounds great. I'll see you then. Ok. Bye."

Spencer's half of the conversation meant nothing without its counter-part and I secretly hoped she'd clue me in as to how long I had to make her reconsider her decision to leave us as we were. Her decision to return to school unattached and just as she left it. Without any part of me at all.

Enter my sister instead.

"Who was that?"

"Oh, that was my cousin. You know she's driving me to the airport."

"That's weird. You know I could've driven you to the airport," Kyla replied with a suspicious frown, "or Ashley could have."

"Yeah, but you guys have already done so much. Don't worry about it. It's fine."

"It wouldn't have been a problem, Spencer."

"Yeah, well…"

She obviously wasn't budging on this. I didn't even really know why I decided to remain awkward and unsure in the room when I could be consoling myself in the privacy of my own. But then I would remind myself that I was absolutely addicted to her cruel form of torture and would take it again and again and again. In fact, I wanted to.

"How long before your cousin gets here?" I find myself asking, suddenly.

"Like an hour or less."

"Can I talk to you?" I asked, nervous but desperate.

Kyla nodded in approval, waiting to hear Spencer's answer.

"Oh, um…like now?"

"Yeah, now would be great."

"Because you see I'm still packing, right? I have to get this done, Ashley."

"No, I'll do it. Go talk," Kyla said quickly, jumping up and snatching a sweater out of Spencer's unsuspecting hands.

"No, Kyla. It's fine. I can do it my—"

"Go talk to her, Spencer. Seriously."

Her expression said it all. Our bond strangely deeper in that moment then any other moment I could remember.

"Sure," Spencer whispered, walking right past me and out the door all the way to my room.

I followed obediently behind her, feeling helpless and knowing that I was about to be forced into the conversation that needed to happen days ago. Watching her walk in front of me down the hall was too much like watching her walk away and when she turned the corner to my room, it felt wrong already.

"What's up?" she asked, taking a seat on my bed.

"Come on. You know already."

"Maybe."

"You do. You know you do."

"Fine, I do. But I don't know how talking about it is going to change anything. I'm leaving, Ashley. I have a plane ticket. I have school. I have my life to get back to."

"I'm not asking you to change anything, Spencer. I'm ready…I'm _more_ than ready to make some changes of my own."

'What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about moving to…to…"

"Where?"

"Wherever you school is. Wherever you are."

"I don't want you leaving everything behind for some relationship that might not even work out. That's not a good idea."

"So you're dooming us already?"

"No, I'm not dooming us, ok? I'm trying to be realistic though, and it's not realistic to have you follow me everywhere I go."

"That's not what I'm trying to do."

"Oh, it's not? Because that's what it sounds like."

"I just want to be with you, Spencer. And if that means going to where you are then that's what I'll do."

"And if it doesn't work out…then what?"

"Then I come back here. Look, it's not like I don't have the money to do what I want."

"It's about more than that."

"What's it about? Just tell me."

"I don't know!" she says, frustrated and turning red. Her hands are clenching her knees so hard her knuckles are turning white and I choose to look at them instead of her eyes.

"I don't mean to upset you," I say, quietly.

"I'm not upset."

"You obviously are."

She sighs and smiles a little, but the rest of her face doesn't change at all so the smile means nothing.

"I'm not. I just don't want you to do anything you would just regret later."

"Trust me, I wouldn't regret it. I want to know that you and I had all the chances that we deserved. That's all. The only regret I would have is seeing you walk out of my life again and not doing anything to fix it."

"I graduate in May. Why can't we be together then?"

Because I would absolutely disintegrate waiting for May. Because I value my body and my simple sanity and do not wish to see it all fall apart. Because we just can't. Because I can't.

"What about now?" I say with a forced laugh.

"Ashley…"

"What?"

"When did you get all these feelings? When did all of this happen?" she asks, standing up and walking over to where I stand. Her body is close enough to kiss, but everything else is on its way home.

"I have no idea. But they're real."

"I believe you."

She grabs the back of my neck, simply holding it. Her thumb leaves a trail of goosebumps wherever it touches. Still.

"I can't let you go, Spence. I might not get another chance."

"May, Ashley. I'm coming back to L.A. and you and I can pick up where we…"

"You know and I know that May will never come for us. You'll meet someone, something will happen, I'll be gone…_anything._ Anything can happen in five months. You know that."

She says nothing because she knows I'm unwilling to hear anything except for "come with me."

I keep waiting for the waves of her changing mind to wash into me, but they never come. Instead, Kyla enters my room looking nervous for enough for everyone. I must be wearing that exact face.

"Spencer, I'm done, ok? I'm going to move your suitcase downstairs."

"That's fine, Ky. Thanks a lot. We're almost done anyway."

Are we?

"Ok, well…here's your phone in case your cousin calls. If you two need anything I'm right downstairs," she says.

Though I know what she means is that when Spencer inevitably disappoints me, she's right downstairs…waiting.

Spencer kisses me lightly as soon as Kyla walks out. It catches me off guard and I grasp her shoulders tightly.

"Sorry," she says, licking her lips.

"You either let me come with you or never do that again. Ever."

"You don't mean that."

"I do," I say with a nod, finally gathering a little strength.

"I don't want to lose you," she says. And I know she means it because the tiniest tear in history slides down her face.

"I don't want to lose _you_, but I don't want to lose myself either. You have to choose."

Her phone rings and we both look at each other, knowing who's on the other end. Knowing that it's time.

"Ashley, please…"

"Let me come. Just let me come, Spence. Please…just please," I say, pleading now.

Rushing.

Waiting for the waves.


	7. Chapter 7

_**Yes, it's short, but it HAS to be. Trust me. Thanks for reading. Thanks for your messages and feedback. It means a lot. Since this is short, I'll post another tomorrow, ok?**_

**Chapter 7:**

She said no.

It was plain and simple and heartbreaking and irrefutable.

So I let her go. I allowed her to enter and exit and pause hesitantly through a series of literal and metaphorical doors and out of my bodily house. I didn't call out to her and I was no longer willing to beg.

Because she was right.

We both knew that I couldn't follow her. It just hurt to have it said when I could easily silence the insistent truth in my mind by imagining her curled up next to me in some future bed. I imagined covers pulled up to our necks and arms wrapped so tightly that they could break us safely into a million satisfied pieces.

But it wasn't easy. Because letting go of what you want never is. In fact, it's one of the first lessons life presents you with, but I had to re-learn childhood lessons in the absence of Spencer Carlin. The infantile begging and pleading and refusal to give in to the obvious yet dangerous facts just proved the point further.

Christmas is an ironic hell. I stay in my room, in the darkness, waiting for her to call. Waiting for her to give and break and fall and push gentle waves into me. But instead I received a generic "Merry Christmas" text message that I'm sure she sent to everyone. Maybe I was everyone now. Maybe she had forgotten that quickly.

"Ash…"

Kyla stands in the doorway. I have no idea how long she's been there. But probably long enough to hear me curse that dreaded text message.

"Ky…"

"You can't stay in here all night, ok? It's Christmas. We miss you."

"Trust me, mom doesn't miss me."

"Fine, then I miss you."

"I can't, Kyla. Sorry."

"You can't do this forever. Spencer is gone and I know that's hard for you, but you can't lock yourself in this room and stop living life."

"That's not what I'm doing. It hasn't even been that long."

"It's been long enough."

"Ky, just leave me alone, ok?"

"No, not until you agree to come downstairs and endure the torture that is a Davies Family Christmas."

"Well, when you say it like that…no."

"Ashley!"

"Listen, she just left me, Kyla! She just turned around and walked out like it was the easiest thing she had ever done and you expect me to get over that like it's nothing? I can't do that. I need some time."

Kyla sighs and walks across the room, settling down beside me on the bed.

"She's really lost right now. I think she was able to spend the last two years after her parents died coasting on this idea that she was fine as long as she never let anyone in. Then she came here and you two…and now she doesn't feel safe."

"But she has to know that I love her. I mean, I literally begged her to let me come with her."

"Why did you do that?"

"Because I want to be with her!"

"All you probably did was scare her more, Ashley. Why would she want all that responsibility…just waiting for the day things aren't picture perfect and you remind her that she's the reason you're there and she feels guilty for disrupting your life? No way. I would've said no. And you would've too if you weren't so blinded by your emotions."

"Leave me alone."

"I've left you alone all day."

"I just want to be by myself."

"Sorry, Ash," she says, lifting up my soft comforter and sliding in beside me, "but it's not happening."

"You can't just…"

"Yeah, I actually can. So scoot over."

"Kyla!"

"No, Ashley! I'm not going anywhere. You have to learn to deal with this. And if you decide that you can't then you go to her and put yourself on the line all over again and wait for the disappointment. Because the truth is, no one likes a person that needs them in order to be happy. So you have to be ok without her first. Then you can go be ok with her if that's still what you both want."

What could I say? She was right of course. I had allowed myself to become this purposefully uninformed person, ignoring all the obvious and settling for the poor man's version of the truth. As if my belief in lies would make them true. As if my sadness would somehow bring her back to me. As if ignoring her words would change them.

"I know…I know. You're right. I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologize to me. But if you want my honest opinion, you two need to talk. Like really, really talk, you know?"

"I don't think she wants to talk to me."

"How do you know? Have you tried calling her? Have you tried doing anything at all besides feeling sorry for yourself?"

If she wasn't so right, I'd slap her.

"No, I haven't tried."

"Well you should. Because if I have to spend one more day with this loser sister I think I'll go crazy."

"Try spending your entire life with a loser for a sister and then we'll talk."

"Awww…there's the Ashley I know. Now make the call."

"I can't do it with you right here."

"Please. You can't do it without me here."

"Fine, but don't say anything, ok? I can talk to her without your help."

Who was I kidding?

"Who are you kidding?"

"Whatever, hand me my cell phone, please."

Kyla thrusts the phone dramatically into my waiting hand, her smile condescending yet somehow sincere. I'm not even sure that's possible, but she manages it.

I toggled down until I found her name in my phonebook, waiting a moment before actually dialing. When I finally did, I wished I had waited a moment longer.

First ring.

No one answers on the first ring. I'm not even sure that's legal.

Second ring.

Most people wait until the third or fourth. Just saying.

Third ring.

And then a voice.

A girl's voice.

But not Spencer's.

"Hello?"

"Hi," I say hesitantly, "is Spencer around? This is her phone, right?"

"Oh yeah, sorry. She's in the bathroom. She takes forever in there before dates. Can I take a message?"

Date?

"I guess not."

"I can tell her you called. It's not a problem."

"Ok, that's fine then. Can you tell her that Ashley called, please?"

"Sure…whoa, hold on. Here she is actually."

Before I could respond I heard giggling and then the familiar voice I had yearned to hear earlier, "Hello?"

"Hey, Spence. It's me."

"Me _who_?"

"Me, Ashley."

"Oh, hi. Sorry, Megan didn't tell me it was you. What's up?"

And because I couldn't help it, because I had to know, because maybe I knew all along, I asked the inevitable question.

"Who's Megan?"

"Ashley…"

"Don't, ok? Just tell me."

She sighs before answering. Never the best sign, "My girlfriend. She's my girlfriend."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8:**

**_Spencer:_  
**

Trust me, I know.

I know.

And I've known all of these days and all of these moments and all the way home that something had to give. And it did.

It did.

Ashley sounded strangely calm as she hung up on me, leaving me with a smiling Megan and a heart that was beating out of my chest. I could hear the sadness in her voice and I knew her well enough to know the truth had wrecked the remainder of her presumably already ravished ship.

"Baby, what's wrong? Are you ok?"

Megan was staring at me now, her face full of concern.

"Yeah…yeah, I'm fine."

"You don't look fine."

"Well I guess you'll just have to trust me then, huh?" I reply, walking towards my bedroom door, "are you ready to get out of here or what?"

"You know I am."

She smiles the smile of a girl that supposedly knows me, but it's not like Ashley's smile at all.

Ashley…

"Megan, wait. Can I meet you out there, actually? I have to make a quick phone call."

"Sure, but hurry, ok? Christmas only comes once a year."

She had stayed behind for the holiday break so that I wouldn't have to spend it alone. The gesture had managed to warm the same inconstant heart that normally wouldn't let her in and for a moment I could almost believe I loved her. For a moment I could almost believe I loved her the way I love Ashley.

But as usual, the moment passed. The moment shifted and transferred and lapsed into other moments before it had left any permanency at all. The only imprint from two years of supposedly living was shaped in the unmistakable form of Ashley Davies.

I found her number quickly in my phone and wasted no time in calling her. I could only hope she would answer.

I surely didn't expect her to answer on the first ring.

"Hello?"

"Ash, it's me. It's Spencer."

"I know."

"Listen, I don't have much time and I know I have a lot of explaining to do. But…"

"Why didn't you tell me?"

I stupidly bought myself time that wouldn't help anything at all, "I tried so many times. You have no idea how many times."

"Fuck you, Spencer."

"I know…"

"No, you don't know. Fuck you. That's it, alright? That's all I have to say to you. Don't call me ever again. Don't text me. Don't e-mail me. Leave me the fuck alone. I'm serious."

"Wait…Ash, please wait and let me explain."

"Spencer, are you serious right now? There's nothing left to say. You have a fucking girlfriend, ok? You fucked me knowing the whole time that you had a girlfriend and to make matters even worse…to make everything a million times worse, you let me…"

"I know! I know that I screwed up big time but I didn't know that things would happen the way they did. I didn't know that I would fall in—"

"Don't. Just don't. If you care about me at all—and trust me, I doubt that's the case—you won't say something that stupid."

"We're in an open-relationship."

"I don't care."

"I don't even love her, Ashley."

"I don't care."

"You have no idea how I feel about you. If you did—"

"I still wouldn't care."

"I don't believe you."

"It doesn't matter."

"The fact that you're still on the phone with me tells me everything I need to know."

So she hung up. Just like that she was gone and my theories no longer carried the possibility of being proven true. She disproved them easily with her ability to let go and the sound of the dial tone—which I listened to until I remembered Megan was waiting for me in the cold.

She was always waiting in the cold. And it was almost always because of me and my inability to connect.

Which is why I needed Ashley to listen to the truth. I've been in love with her as long as I can remember. I've wanted her as long as I've known of all the things that could be wanted. And now I've ruined everything, because I've never known a life that didn't have an Ashley Davies lying in some fantastical wait. She's never been an impossibility. I've never been her enemy.

I took the stairs as fast as I could to meet Megan, sure that my rapid movements towards her betrayed non-existent excitement. She was no longer hard to convince. My constant push and pull had rendered me an object to be won and our relationship was no longer about the romance of quick smiles and slow fingers. We were involved in narcissistic battle. That very battle is the reason we chose to declare our relationship an open one. We wanted sure feelings one moment and our habitual warfare the next. It was a sadistic game that I almost always won. After all, it was my inconstancy that had been the reason the game had been necessary to begin with.

"Hey," she says softly, leaning against her car.

"Sorry," I reply, offering up an unenthusiastic apology with a light kiss on her cheek.

"For a second there I thought you were bailing on me."

"Not a chance."

"Good."

We drove several miles to the only place that was open on Christmas—a rather upscale Thai restaurant on the edge of town that Megan just happened to be in love with.

I was only in love with Ashley.

I was only able to admit it too late.

After we were seated, Megan began jabbering on as usual, informing and updating me on all the things I had no interest in. Soccer, her best friend's inconsiderate boyfriend, the latest episode of her favorite reality show of the second…all while Ashley was somewhere alone. Somewhere reeling from the news. And there was nothing I could do because instead of being at her side, I was with Megan listening to way too many words that matter way too little.

"Spencer?"

"Huh, what? What's up?"

"Nothing…you've just been really weird ever since you got back."

"Weird how?"

"Like really quiet."

"How is that weird?"

"Well normally you're a little more talkative—not much, but more than this."

You know nothing about me.

"Oh, well…sorry."

"You don't have to be sorry. Sometimes I just wish you'd let me in a little more."

"Not this again."

I had grown so sick of the obvious argument. So sick of listening to people beg me to let them in on some secret self. Some version of myself that just didn't exist. If I could give more, I would. But I can't so I don't. What else?

"I only bring it up because nothing's changed with you," she sighed, looking at my hands rather than my face as she continued, "and I'm starting to think you won't ever change."

"That's right. I'm the same person, and that means you've known this entire time what you were getting into. If you want to break up with me then break up with me."

"I want you to care, Spencer. I want you to want me."

"I do…want you," I lied, sounding out my words like a first grade class on the first day of school.

"But not enough. You can sit there and practically demand that I break up with you…you're ok with that. How? How can you not care at all when you're all that I think about?" she paused, "why don't you love me?"

"Better question—why are you ruining Christmas?" I asked coldly, scanning my menu.

"You're such a bitch, Spencer."

"Yeah. Yeah, you're right. But you're the girl who takes it, so what does that make you, Megan? I'll tell you what it makes you. It makes you _my_ bitch. You tell me which is worse."

The first tear of the night fell from the corner of her eye and landed somewhere on her cheek, glistening like emotional precipitation on her cheek. When I felt a complete absence of desire to wipe it affectionately away, I knew just how little I actually cared for her. I knew exactly how right she was about me. And I didn't care.

I wanted Ashley. Megan now had to suffer for that want. My God-shaped punching bag.

"Do you want to be in this relationship at all? I mean, is this just it? Are we over?" she asked finally. I noticed that she had wiped away the tear herself. Maybe she knew me after all.

"Um…it's really up to you, Megan."

She laughed harshly, "You fucked somebody else, didn't you?"

"I've fucked lots of people over the past few months. So have you. We're in an open relationship."

"You fucked somebody that mattered, though."

I remained quiet, sipping from my Diet Coke thoughtfully.

"That's what I thought," she said, sadly, "the girl who called…Ashley."

"I slept with her if that's what you're getting at. I was allowed to."

"But you like her. I mean, you _really_ like her…more than you like me."

"Not necessarily."

"What kind of answer is that?!"

Her voice was starting to carry, and now our private little lover's quarrel was a very public lover's brawl.

"It's just an answer."

"Fuck you."

"What do you want me to say, Megan? How much of a martyr do you want to be? I love her, ok? I'm in love with her and she used to be in love with me. Then you answered my phone tonight. So now she never wants to hear from me again. So it's over if that makes you happy. You screwed _that_ up too."

"I take it you didn't tell her about me."

"Do you tell the girls you sleep with about me?"

"Yes."

I already knew that she did. I'm sure it just turned them on even more.

"No, I didn't tell her about you," I said plainly.

"Why?"

"Why does it matter?"

"It just does."

"Stop pushing, Megan, or you're going to get the truth."

"That's what I want. That's what I've always wanted despite whatever lies you were feeding me."

Her shoulder-length blonde hair had somehow managed to fall into her face and her eyes burned into me…waiting. I felt no sympathy for her at all. I never did.

"I didn't tell her because it didn't matter. You don't matter."

"I don't matter?"

"Do I need to repeat myself, Megan?"

"Goodbye, Spencer Carlin. Have a great fucking life," she said as she threw down her menu and walked away.

"I hope you mean that!" I yelled after her, hating for her to ever get the last word.

She was gone. We were over. But there was no satisfaction and there was no relief. Because Ashley's words still scalded me. Because everything inside was chaotic and everything outside was a well-rehearsed parade of insincerity. I still didn't have what I needed.


	9. Chapter 9

_**Almost done. And then I start posting a new story, "The Dennison House." So look out for it soon! Thanks for the feedback!**_

**Chapter 9:**

I drink during the day now.

Tiny glass bottles line the bottom of my bed like a makeshift medicine cabinet. Little droplets of unreachable amber-colored liquid give way to admissions I'd rather keep to myself. They show that I'm all forms of desperate. They know I would fold their glass bottles inside out and lick the remainder of their medicine if I could. But I can't.

Six months and I haven't heard from her.

No phone calls.

No e-mails.

Just deafening, meaningful silence on her end. She used it well, saying all that she wanted while saying nothing at all and her message was loud and clear.

Our relationship which had barely made it off the ground had stopped its flight mid-air when she called me last. It nosedived when she heard Megan's voice. It became non-existent when I was forced out of hiding by the truth.

Six months.

I nearly slept through the rest of my senior year and practically crawled across the stage at my graduation. As soon as all the pomp and the circumstances were over and the speeches were made, I dialed her number. I made the call from the front seat of my car and prayed for the unexpected. But I knew she wouldn't answer. Still sometimes it felt good just to hold my ear to her voice via the answering machine she hadn't changed in half a year and breathe. I never really left messages, trying my shaky hand at the silence she had mastered so well. Attempting to say "I'm ready." Even my silence was a lie.

Because the truth was, I wasn't ready. I couldn't understand how I was supposed to return to her as this well-adjusted and changed person when everyday without her rendered me just the opposite of those things. I was stuck between the rock I had turned her into and the hard place that my heart had become.

I enrolled for summer semester just to give myself something to do. I needed a worthy distraction that wasn't another version of Megan. I sat at my new desk in my new room at USC, just a few miles away from her waiting for my new roommate to show. Waiting for her _not_ to show, I guess. I wanted to be alone. I needed my space to cry and scream and kick at imaginary versions of my heartache and curse her and then apologize, finally collapsing somewhere for a necessary swig of liquid therapy. I needed my space to scrawl her name is alcohol infused letters across the expanse of both hands and to dial her number and miss her. More than anything I needed space to miss her.

Six months.

Maybe today I would finally leave a message.

**_Ashley_**:

"Ashley, it's me. I know you probably don't want to hear from me and of course I don't blame you…why would you want to talk to someone who…anyway, I wish you'd answer your phone sometimes. Even if it's just to tell me to fuck off or whatever…I don't know. I just want to hear your voice so bad right now. Ok, not just right now. All the time. I miss hearing you talk to me. I don't know if I told you that in the last message I left. Did you get that one? It was like, maybe two weeks ago. Anyway, I hope you got it. So I'm here now. I'm in L.A. And I would really love to see you. You know that, I guess. But I really, really want to see you. And I swear I won't—."

"Sorry, your answering machine cut me off. I don't mean to call twice in a row like that. I just really wanted to finish this message. Like I was saying, I swear I won't say anything stupid. And you can yell at me or…I don't know, or you can not say anything at all too. Whatever you want, ok? Just please call me back…Ashley, please…"

I delete both messages.

I hate when she leaves them back-to-back. The second one is always so desperate. It makes me want to hold her when I know I can't. I can't want to take care of her anymore because she doesn't deserve it. Because I don't deserve that responsibility. Because neither of us can handle what the other entails.

It's been six months now, approximately 180 days of missing Spencer and each day is harder that its predecessor. I can still see her in my bed when I let my sanity slip. I can still see her next to Kyla on the couch, laughing and pulling hair away from that perfect face. I have so many memories of her it's not even fair. It's not a fair fight when she's touched and breathed and lain across everything in this house. And that's why I'm moving out tomorrow. Because I can't deal with all the memories.

Because I just can't deal.

I've tried my best to be angry for what she did. Or rather, what she didn't do. And sometimes I'm successful. Sometimes I am so absolutely infuriated with her, I can only imagine her image enflamed in fire-engine red and dripping with lies. Other times I can only see her in my bed, admitting to me what she feels she can admit to no one else and crying two years worth of tears into my skin.

Then there are the messages. She's left several over the course of six months and they're all equally terrible. Whether or not she does it on purpose, every time she calls and gives into her desperation with a message, I'm a wreck for days afterwards.

She's only a few miles away.

It's been six months.

Maybe everything is different.

Maybe she's different.

_**Spencer:**_

I was tired of waiting. I was finally just too tired to let the silence continue. So I showed up on her doorstep without a speech in my head or the validation necessary to be there and I rang the bell. I couldn't let another agonizing moment go by without seeing her face. It was physically impossible for me to last another moment. It felt that way at least. I just needed her to meet my eyes again.

I needed Ashley to invite me in again.

When she approached the door and I could see her face distorted and segmented through the glass, I almost cried on the spot. Simply from having her exist in my world again. And when she opened it and released a long sigh that seemed to creep up all the way from the heels of her hesitant feet, I did cry.

"Spencer…"

"I'm so sorry."

"For what?" she said, avoiding my eyes.

"For being here right now, for not telling you about Megan, for letting you in and then shutting you out, for not telling you from the very beginning how I feel about you…I'm sorry about everything."

She remained silent for a moment before grabbing one of my trembling, inadequate hands and dragging my inside and out of the summer heat.

"I don't understand why you think you're allowed to be here. Did I ever give you that impression?" she asks once we're both in the foyer.

"I don't know…I mean, no, you didn't. But you don't get it, Ashley. I had to see you. I had to see you just to confirm that I'm not crazy. That I didn't make you up or something. Because I…"

"I don't want to hear this."

"Ashley…"

"I don't."

"I love you."

"Stop it."

"You have no idea how much I love you."

"Fuck you."

But at least she was looking at me now. Her eyes were directly pointed at my wet ones.

"Can I hug you?"

"You can leave."

"You're the one that invited me in, Ashley."

"I don't know why I did that."

"Because you still love me."

"Obviously not."

"Did you get my message?"

"You mean _messages_."

"So you listened to them."

She shook her head, her hands suddenly gripping the doorframe behind her.

"Ashley, I want to be with you."

"Oh really? Fuck you."

"Will you at least talk to me? Please just talk to me for a second."

"We're talking now."

Now I shook my own head, wanting to touch her so badly that I felt betrayed by my own fingers. But there she was, skin made to be touched and eyes glaring at me, "How can I make this better?"

How could I make this go away?

_**Ashley:**_

So she wanted to make this better all of a sudden. As if she could. As if she had spent every night hearing the voice of a stranger answer the phone of the girl you had been ready to risk it all for. Spencer was still the expectant, entitled person she was six months ago. Only now she had finally had a taste of the rejection she had spoon-fed me since day one.

And she wanted to make this better? I laughed before I could stop myself, and laughed even more when I realized I had no reason to stop myself. I owed her nothing. However, I _could_ think of something to make this better after all.

After all.

"You really want to make this better, Spencer? That's what you want?"

"More than anything."

"Good," I said, moving in for the lethal kiss, "come here."

And so she did. She came because I wanted her to. And she came because there was nowhere else to go. As soon as her mouth met mine I felt something shift in me and it shook me like some kind of bodily inferno. It just poured its way down and between everything inside me and it shook me from the inside out, leaving hot trails of Spencer everywhere it flowed. For a minute I forgot that this was war.

She broke from the kiss, panting hard and eyes still closed.

"Ashley, we shouldn't do this."

"I thought this was what you wanted."

"It is…it is. I just…"

"You just what?"

"Does it mean anything to you? Do you feel anything?"

"Let's go upstairs."

She wasn't going to use her new sincerity or her soft voice to make me forget that she had fucked me and then fucked me over like it was the easiest thing someone could do. Like it was the only choice she had. It was my turn. It was my turn to lure her in and then spit her right back out.

So I grabbed her arm and pulled her up the stairs behind me, feeling her trip and scatter but pretending not to care. I would drag her across the jagged peaks of heartache she had forced me to endure if I could and waste no time delighting in our identical wounds. This is what she had turned me into. This is the damage her damage could do.

"Why am I in here?" she asks me quietly, as she stands close to my bed.

"Don't you deserve to be in here?"

"I don't know what you want me to say, Ashley."

"Do you deserve to be in here or not?"

"I want to be anywhere you are. And no, I probably don't deserve to be here right now. I know that."

"Then tell me, Spencer, how you could stand on my doorstep and ask anything of me! Tell me why you think you're here!"

"I'm sorry."

"Of course…of course you are. Why wouldn't you be?"

She shakes her head, but her lack of words only fuels my fire. I've had to come up with so many words. I've had to engage in all sorts of dialogue with myself to excuse away how she could lie and now she has the audacity to say nothing?

No.

"Say something."

"I'm so sorry that I hurt you."

"Say something other than 'sorry' because that doesn't mean anything to me."

"I know. But I owe you that at least, ok? And more…I owe you more than that, but everything else is going to take time. So just…understand that if I could make everything right I would. I just don't know how yet. Actually, you know what? Maybe there's no way to do that. Maybe all I can do is hope that you forgive me for fucking up. For making all these fucking mistakes."

"I don't know if I can do that."

"That's fine. I mean…it's not fine. But you have every right to not forgive me. I'm sure you know that already. I just want you to also know that even if we can't have…even if we can't another chance, I'm somewhere wishing that we could. This isn't just some fleeting thing. It's been six months, for Christ's sake. And it hasn't gotten any easier. They say that time heals all wounds, but I'm not sure that's true, you know? Because here I am and there you are and all I want to do is hold you. Still."

"Then hold me, Spencer."

It was a weak moment. But I needed to forget for a second. I needed to feel her trespass into my personal space. I didn't want to keep giving her permission for everything. I wanted her to just assume for a moment so I didn't have to feel like a traitor to myself all the time.

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because you haven't forgiven me."

"You choose now to finally become noble, Spence? Right now when I'm finally asking you not to be?"

She shrugs, tears welling in her eyes again, "I've never known the right time for anything, I guess."

"I guess not."

"I guess I've just lost you, huh?" she says, shakily.

And then she's down. She's collapsed on my bed in defeat and it's the first time I feel more sorry for her than I do myself. She gave me everything she could, after all.

After all.

"Spencer…don't."

"I just can't believe this. I can't believe I…fuck."

I sit next to her, the bed shifting with my additional weight. Without thinking I can only assume, she rests her head on my shoulder and for a second we're the people we were before everything crumbled.

"I'm not trying to break you," I whisper, though I'm not sure how true those words really are.

"I know."

I kiss her forehead, stroking her blonde locks and remembering our history in this bed.

"Spence…"

"Yeah?" she answers quickly, wiping tears away with the back of her hand.

"Will you stay for awhile?"

"Here…right here?"

"Can we just forget for a second? Can we just…I just want to forget all the shit for a second."

I don't wait for an answer, nor do I anticipate one. Instead I pull her across my bed until we're both lying flat, our bodies tangled.

"This is a bad idea," she says after a moment, but her face does nothing to prove this. In fact, she looks relieved.

"That sounds very familiar, Carlin."

She laughs, boldly kissing me right below my hairline and a strange moment of "should we or shouldn't we" passes between us.

Should we?

Or shouldn't we?

I answer with my hands, bringing her face just a fraction closer and kissing her softly.

"Ash…"

My fingers don't even try to stop me. They quickly journey everywhere they're told.

Exposed shoulders.

Long neck.

Perfect back.

I can tell that she wants me by the way the lower half of her questioning body moves into mine. I'm not even sure what she's trying to alleviate. The sudden but not so unexpected ache between her thighs or the realistic doubt settling into her head the closer we got to the closest we could get.

My tongue propelled itself easily across her skin, obviously missing and then rediscovering everything it found beneath. She hurried out of her tank top and shorts and revealed tan lines that only spurred me forth. I used them as a navigational guide that led me all the way to where she was the most hot and wet and the very last straw.

"Is this ok, Spence?" I ask a little too politely.

"I think so," she replies, but then moves to throw her dark blue underwear to the floor.

"Are you sure?" I ask with a smile, before lowering my head.


	10. Chapter 10

She was sure.

That sureness, that enduring clarity flowed from her center and made its way through the borders of her last defense. Her uninstructed wetness was the sweetest reward for six months of punishment. I threw away thoughts and deconstructed the wall that I had needed to protect myself from her and instead prepared myself—every part—to welcome her back inside.

Maybe I was being stupid. Maybe I hadn't thought through everything and maybe I was giving up too much of what was important. But I simply didn't care. What could've been a bad idea was disguised at least temporarily as the only good thing I had done for myself in a very long time.

"Ashley…" she hummed against my ear as I slid back up to kiss her neck and reacquaint my fingers with her interior folds and once well-traversed cavern, "please don't stop."

She was scared—just like I was—that this would somehow be interrupted. Not by my sister or a ringing, insistent phone or a natural disaster.

Worse.

By the not-so-gentle rousing of the facts. The natural disaster of our creation.

What she didn't know is that I was now willing to tread through them, under them, around them as long as my journey led me to the sweet mouth and welcoming warmth that she was.

My forgiveness was what was moving inside her, slowly yet forcefully. My forgiveness was being painted across her lips and down her neck.

"Please don't stop."

"Why would I stop, Spence? Why would I ever stop?" I whispered into her skin, spreading the ink of those words like graffiti.

"Because you hate me."

I looked up then, and when our eyes met I saw the fear I knew would be there.

"I don't hate you."

"You should."

"No…and I don't."

She grabbed my face between her hands and left a ghost-like whisper of a kiss on my lips, "I love you."

"I love you."

She nodded, whimpering slightly as my forgiving fingers found a familiar locale of pleasure. An instance of felicity that visibly shook her through every part.

Now her hands gripped my t-shirt, bringing it up and over my head.

"No bra?" she laughed, eyes closing as my speed increased.

"You should know me better than that."

She laughed again before her mouth moved to capture an exposed nipple, suckling it like a grateful, starving newborn.

"Fuck…" I moaned.

Everything felt so absolutely utopian that I had to wonder if it was always like this. And if it was, how had I gone without it for so long? I wanted to hold her, because it was through the simple acts of affection that I could prove my sincerity. But there was something that needed to be done first.

I changed my rhythm inside her once again, my fingers gliding in and out of her so easily that it seemed choreographed. Her nails found my back and she softly nipped the skin of my shoulder between my teeth as she came. What I noticed the most, though, was that she stared directly at me for as long as she could. All-encompassing blue globes that could make or break my fragile, glass world stared right into me until they were lidded in long-coming gratification.

She wasn't loud. Just a train of gentle moans and soft meaningless murmurs, but her body was nearly theatrical in nature as it twisted and bucked and pressed against me. She bruised me physically because we had already bruised one another so much vocally that I wasn't even sure those spots would show anymore.

"Ashley…Ashley…"

"Spence…"

"I just wanted to make sure it was really you."

I smiled as I wrapped my arms around her, unsure if it was even necessary to respond.

"It's me."

"Yeah, I guess so."

She turned around and adjusted so she could look at me, winding those long, golden fingers through my messy, brown curls.

"Why are you here?" I asked suddenly, obviously catching her off-guard.

"In L.A. or in your bed?"

"In L.A."

"School."

"Oh."

"I wanted to be back here. Close to everyone that mattered."

"Are you seeing anyone?" I asked, needing to make sure all the answers were given this time.

"I don't want to see anyone that's not you."

"So you're _not_ seeing anyone?"

"No…no…I only want you. I only want to be with you."

"Are you sure?"

"It's always been you, and I know that even after all the…all the _shit_ that's happened between us, you _know_ that. You know it's always been you. For as long as I can remember. But after losing my mom and dad, everything got…harder. Everything that I wanted became what I was most afraid of, you know? Because I didn't know if I could handle losing anything else. So I surrounded myself with all these people and all these relationships and all these things that didn't really matter to me. So if they left me…so what? So what? But then there's you. You fucked it up."

I said nothing, because this was her stage. And the performance she had managed to fool me with was coming to a welcomed close. She was finally out of character.

"You fucked it up because you knew me too well and because I wanted you too much not to care. I was terrified to tell you about Megan because then you would know just how screwed up I had become. How could I explain to you that she was just some girl that I kept around for when I got too lonely, but cared nothing about? What kind of person would that mean I was? And why would you want a person like that around?"

"Do you still feel like that now, Spencer?"

"Maybe…sometimes…yeah, I do."

"I love you. And I really do know who you are. I'm not going to lie, these past few months I wished that I didn't."

"I know," she says, shifting her eyes.

"I wished that you could be another Aiden…someone that I kept around for when _I_ got too lonely," I said, parroting her admissions, "but you just aren't. Not only that, now that I know what it feels like to love someone the way that I love you, I can never go back to the Aidens of the world. And the truth of that made me so angry at you. You didn't just make me fall for you. You left me completely different…someone that can only be with _you_. Someone that can't live a lie."

She nods, a tear escaping her eye. She wipes it away before responding, "I don't want to cry all the time."

"You don't have to, Spence. It's okay because we're finally going to get this right."

And she just cries harder.

---------------

We stay in bed until staying in bed becomes an utter impossibility. We're starving and finally each other's bodies can't feed what we feel, so we rip ourselves out of my bed and attack the stairs as if everything that must be done must be done quickly. Eating and breathing and bathroom breaks are only roadblocks on this journey back to one another.

I wrap my fingers around the refrigerator handle and pull, sighing contentedly as the cold air hits my scarcely-covered body and attempts to transcend Spencer's impossible heat.

"I'm so hungry that I don't even know where to start," I say into her hair, pulling her next to me.

"I'm so hungry I'm not even sure I have the energy _to_ eat."

"Hmm…I know."

She smiles, completely aglow by refrigerator light and dressed in one of my over-sized t-shirts and I can't believe that she's finally right there. Maybe she's never been _right there_ before. Maybe this was something different entirely.

"I can't believe this is really happening," she says, as if she knows what I'm thinking and is urging me to vocalize.

"I can't either. I really can't."

"And I'm here. I mean, I'm in L.A. so it's not like I have somewhere to be in two weeks. We have time, you know?"

"I'm moving."

She's obviously startled. She backs several feet away from me and drops the smile that's been playing at her lips consistently for the past few hours.

"No…wait, sorry," I stumble.

"Are you serious?"

"It's not what you think. I should've phrased it differently."

"Well, tell me what I should think," she demands, softly.

"I'm moving out. I got an apartment."

"Where?"

"Here…in L.A."

"Oh," she says, moving a step closer to me again, "well good. You scared me."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Why are you moving out?"

"Well, it's time…don't you think?"

"I guess. Does Kyla know?"

"Yeah, she knows. She's helping me tomorrow."

"You're moving tomorrow?"

"Yes."

She nods and the smile is back where it belongs, "Good. We can christen your apartment."

"Yes, please."

She leans in, leaving a trail of hot kisses across my face, "You make me so happy."

"Do I?"

"You know you do."

I sigh contentedly, collecting every word that falls from her lips and storing it away for a time when missing her becomes relevant again, "You make me happy too…so incredibly and utterly happy."

She grabs my face between her hands, pulling me in for the kind of kiss that feels too good to exist in such an unforgiving world. Her teeth catch my bottom lip again and again as she kisses me hard, pressing me against the freezer door.

"Whoa…hey, I don't mean to interrupt."

And then I finally notice my sister standing in the archway of the kitchen, her eyebrow raised and arms crossed.

"Kyla, hi!" Spencer says, running over to envelop her in a tight hug. Sometimes I forget that in a way she belongs to Kyla as much as she belongs to me.

"Spence…hey," Kyla answers hesitantly, glancing over Spencer's shoulder to stare at me. I know she's wondering if everything is resolved…if she can hug her friend and not feel like she's betraying me somehow. I nod at her and smile and finally she pulls Spencer against her and completes the embrace.

"I've missed you so much," Spencer says, pulling away.

"I've missed you too. We should…you know, when you're not…we should hang out soon."

"Of course. Soon, you know? I'll be around."

"I don't want to be a third wheel or anything," Kyla says, still looking at me.

"You know you're never a third wheel. I just have to find a way to have my Kyla time and my Ashley time."

"Yeah, this won't be weird at all," Kyla says, rolling her eyes.

I'm almost worried that she might be serious. Spencer was her best friend way before she was my girlfriend. I wouldn't ever want to come between them. Their relationship is essential to life as the way I know it. They've been friends forever.

"It won't. It'll be great," Spencer says with an optimistic smile.

---------------------------

Spencer and I lie in bed, listening to the sound of the summer rain interacting with the glass of my windows and everything is at it should be. As it should've been months and months ago. My room is dark and yet everything is so clear and so visually easy that it makes no scientific sense.

I know she's awake. Her eyes are wide open and her fingers are lazily playing with a strand of my hair, but we haven't talked for several minutes. Finally no words are necessary and there's no need to say what we can't physically. Instead there's that nearly spiritual sense of calm that washes over you when you know you've finally reached an important destination despite yourself and your desire for self-sabotage.

"I can't forget about Kyla," she says suddenly.

I turn slightly inward so that I can see her face, "What do you mean?" I ask, quietly, though I already know exactly what she means because I feel it too.

"She's my best friend. I love her. And I love you too, but she…"

"I know."

"She's the one constant thing that I still believe in."

"I know."

"I'm serious."

"I know."

She nods and kisses me on my forehead.

"Spence?"

"Yeah?"

"I know how much she means to you. I know how important that relationship is for you and I'd never ask you to choose or demand something that's hers, ok?"

"I know," she says, and our roles are reversed.

"She's my sister."

"I remember," she says with a grin.

"Good."

"I love you."

"I love you too."

"This won't be a problem, right?" she asks, honestly.

"Of course not," I reply, needing it to be true.


	11. Chapter 11

**_So, yeah. This is the last chapter, guys. And I thank you very, very much for reading it and giving feedback. A lot of it has been absolutely amazing. Seriously great. My story "The Dennison House" begins on Tuesday. Those chapters will be moving pretty fast so you can get all caught up and then get started on the follow up story to it. Maybe I'll post one more story after "Uncivil Union" is finished. But who knows when that will be, so I'll let you know in the future. Anyway, enjoy, guys. See ya at the next story!_**

**Chapter 11:**

But things are complicated, just as God intends. I knew even saying simple words that were meant to pacify both Spencer and myself that they were only halfway true. It's not that I didn't want Spencer to choose one Davies sister over the other. And it wasn't that I didn't enjoy having Kyla around. I just couldn't fight my overwhelming desire to have Spencer all to myself. I had waited for so long.

But Kyla was my sister and Spencer's best friend and I had no choice but to respect that. Even if all I ever wanted to do was pull Spencer under my sheets and forget that we shared the world with other people.

"Ash…"

Spencer tugged at the strap of my tank top, eyebrow raised. I had wandered off into my thoughts again and she could always tell. We were playing Scrabble with Kyla at my apartment—a game that I usually lost anyway, but today I was giving a new definition to the words "pass turn." It's just so hard to concentrate when Spencer's hand is constantly seeking my own under the table.

"She sucks at this game," Kyla said, placing tiles on the board.

"Aww, she's ok," Spencer said, defending me as if I'm not here.

"No, she sucks. Trust me, she knows it."

"Thanks, Kyla," I said, finding it harder to justify her presence in my apartment.

"Well, she's good at other things."

I glance at Spencer and watch the smile I've come to need like a welcomed addiction spread across the lower hemisphere of her perfect face. And I know immediately that I need her all by myself.

"Gross," Kyla says, pushing her chair back, "I think I'll be leaving now."

"You don't have to go. I'm sorry," Spencer says, sincerely.

"You want me to walk you down?" I ask, thanking my lucky stars for this opportunity to shed my sister and slide into Spencer instead.

But she's already grabbing her purse and heading for the door with Spencer trailing behind her.

"Don't leave," Spencer practically begs.

"Spence, it's fine. I get it. You two wanna get it on and I'm simply getting in the way. So, don't worry about it. I'll call you tomorrow."

The door slammed behind her and I breathed a sigh of relief, though I knew it could be premature.

"This isn't working."

"What's not working?" I ask, nervously.

"Balancing my time with you and Kyla…I thought it would be a lot easier than this. But I feel like I'm always choosing one of you over the other and…"

"You're not."

"Oh, I'm not? Because I feel like Kyla hates me."

"She doesn't hate you. She _so_ doesn't hate you."

"I don't believe you."

"Well, you should. 'Cause I know my sister, ok? She's fine."

"I don't want her to resent me because of our relationship. That's like, a huge fear of mine, you know? That she'll just let this resentment she has of me build and build and all of a sudden she's out of my life and I don't even know why."

"That won't happen."

"You don't fucking know that."

An awkward moment of silence passed between us. An awkwardness that hadn't dwelled between us in awhile. It scared me, so I rambled.

"Listen, I just don't think that…I mean, you and my sister are solid. You're more than that…you're good. You have to stop worrying about it, alright? You'll drive yourself crazy over something that doesn't even exist…some problem you've made up in your head."

"You think it's just in my head?"

"Yeah, maybe."

"Nice. So you think I'm just this irrational person?"

"I never said that," I said, shaking my head and settling down on my new couch, "I just don't want you to worry about it so much."

"This is who I am, Ash. I worry. It's what I do. You know that. You've known that for…"

"Ok, ok. I'm sorry."

"What are you sorry for? Do you even know?"

"Does it matter?"

She shakes her head, making a face at me that I know I'll just misread so I wait for her to clarify.

"Ashley, I refuse to lose her."

"Like I said…"

"Listen to me, please…ok?"

"Sorry."

She takes a deep breath before resuming, "I refuse to lose her because she means too much to me. And I've missed her, you know? I missed her while you and I weren't talking. She's important to me. She knows me…she knows me better than anyone else."

"I know you."

"Not like she does."

"Why do you think that?"

"It's not possible."

"But does she know you now?"

"What do you mean exactly?"

"Well I mean, does she know who you were or does she know who you are now?"

Spencer's eyes lower from mine as if she's honestly considering the question, "I don't know. That's what scares me."

"Move in with me."

"What?"

Not exactly the way I wanted to broach the subject, but I couldn't take it back. My invitation had printed its uncertain ink all across her face but her features showed no RSVP. Just confusion.

"Move in with me."

"I can't."

"Why not? You're here all the time anyway. All that's missing is your mail and your own towel."

"It's not a good idea, Ashley. I don't think we're ready and to be quite honest, I don't think you've thought about this at all."

"Yes I have. I want you here, Spence. All the time…with me. I want to fall asleep with you every night and wake up with you every morning. This place can be ours. All you have to do is say the word."

"I don't want to say the word. I don't want to move in with you."

----------------------

It wasn't that I didn't want to move in with Ashley, fit myself nightly against her bodily shape and fall asleep, become way too easily embarrassed when she catches me watching her as she chaotically assembles breakfast in the kitchen, take an absurd amount of pride in her congratulatory hug when she sees that I've found her vacuum (still in the box) and made good use of it, or bite my bottom lip in anticipation when I hear the alarm of her key in the lock and make myself look busy and not like I've been responding to every noise for the last twenty minutes thinking—incorrectly—that it was her coming back to me.

I wanted that. God, did I want that.

But it was so soon. Ashley and I seemed to be working on some alien clock that didn't always correspond with what was realistic or feasible. I didn't want us to fall apart because of something as simple as rushing a good thing. There was no need to push, and sometimes Ashley's rushing seemed like fear that everything had to be done now—before I ultimately left her alone again. This wasn't the case. Not hardly.

I needed to make room for everything. Because the last few weeks had only been about Ashley. I had school and thinking and walking and breathing and Kyla. I had Kyla. And she was my best friend. She was the one aspect of my life that Ashley could never overshadow or consume. Because it wasn't an option. Because she could be everything else, but she couldn't be her own blood. It made no scientific, biological, common sense. It was impossible. But it was the way it was.

She had sent me a text message, and I read it as soon as I ended my call with Kyla. I still felt a tiny jolt of excitement just from seeing the "1 New Message from Ashley" on the bottom of the tiny screen. It felt strange to respond so warmly to something as cold as technology. Her message read:

**no pressure spence. See you 2nite mybe?**

I wanted to respond immediately, but I had to have a serious talk with Kyla before I agreed to spend the night with Ashley. I had to juggle the brunette sisters as usual in some frustrating, mostly unsuccessful circus act. And I was such a wicked perfectionist that doing something again and again never to become better at it, never to have a breakthrough, was the modern girl's version of torture.

Kyla had been short with me on the phone, which is why the second conversation was necessary. I had apologized as usual. She told me I had done nothing wrong—as usual. Sometimes it was hard to remember which sister I was dating. I don't remember every belonging to a friendship that required so much passivity.

But she had agreed to meet me at a park near my dorm, and all I needed was a few minutes to let her know I hadn't forgotten to divide my loyalties. She was still important to me and more than anything I was working as hard as I could to make sure no one felt neglected. It was exhausting, but it was necessary. Because I couldn't lose either of them.

I just couldn't lose anyone else.

Kyla pulled up only a few minutes after I had taken a seat on one of the many empty benches.

"Hey," she said, standing in front of me.

She knew I knew what a refusal to sit meant. She was only here in front of me out of obligation. There wasn't a chance in hell she was going to settle in and get comfortable, because just doing so compromised how she felt.

"Thanks for coming to talk to me."

"Yeah, whatever. What's up?" she asked, nonchalantly. As if standing awkwardly and refusing to make eye-contact was her normal behavior.

"I'm trying to make this work. I'm trying to be with Ashley and be your best friend too, Kyla. And I know these aren't ideal circumstances, but it's what we've got."

"So because you choose to fuck my sister, I'm just thrown into this mess with you?"

"Yeah, I guess. As a best friend…you're my best friend and this is my life. I want you in it."

"But you want her more, isn't that right?"

"You know that's not true," I say, completely meaning it. I knew she had to see how hard I was trying.

"Don't tell me what I know."

I throw my hands up, "Fine. I won't. But don't ignore the facts either. I'm constantly trying to make sure everyone's included. I don't want anyone to feel left out."

"But that's the point, Spencer! Don't you see that that's the point?"

"I guess I don't."

"There was a time that you and I didn't have to try. Everything was easy. You didn't have to work me in. You didn't have to make sure I was invited to Scrabble night."

"So you don't want to come to Scrabble night, is that what you're saying?"

"No! I mean, yes, I want to come. But I don't want it to be you and Ashley's thing that's you just happen to include me in. You and I used to have our own plans. We used to do our own thing and I didn't always feel like some accessory to plans you already made with my sister."

"But…"

"Wait, just let me get this all out and then you're welcome to say whatever you want."

I gestured for her to continue.

"It was her that you finally trusted enough to cry in front of and it was her that you fought for. Did you ever think that during the time you two weren't speaking that you could've picked up a fucking phone and called your best friend since…I don't know, forever?"

"I figured you wouldn't want to talk to me after what happened!"

"But you didn't even try. You didn't try," she said, shaking her head and finally sitting beside me on the bench.

"I guess I don't know what to do here, Kyla. I don't know how to balance all of this. Just tell me exactly what it is you want so I can't just do it…so I can just know what the fuck I'm supposed to do."

"I just want my friend back. I don't want my sister's girlfriend that I occasionally hang out with. I want my friend."

"You have her."

She shakes her head, "I don't."

We were quiet after that. I could feel Kyla's eyes on me but I didn't know how to acknowledge her, and I guess that was the point. I didn't know how to look at her and tell her that I knew exactly what she meant, that I could feel myself slipping away from her no matter what I did. And was I really trying as hard as I thought? Or was I only trying hard to convince myself that actions which only served to reinforce my own security were actually selfless ones? How could I know?

"I'm sorry," I said, finally.

I looked at her and saw an eleven year-old version, a version waiting for me to tell her about kissing Jason Frame behind her house after a game of flashlight tag. A version waiting for me to confirm that we were still those people despite our constant desire for maturity.

"I'm sorry too. I should've just said how I felt," she said, grabbing my hand, "I really am happy that you and my sister make each other happy."

"You make me happy too. It's just different."

"As it should be. 'Cause I think you're hot, but I'm not quite willing to fuck you."

"Oh, please! As if you really thought we were practicing for boys back when you and I used to…"

"Thanks," she says with a tight smile, squeezing my hand, "I remember. And some of us really were just practicing."

"If you insist, but methinks she doth protest too much."

"Oh God."

I laughed and stood up, pulling her with me, "Alright, Ky. Let's go do something. I won't even tell Ashley it happened."

"Wait, what are you talking about?"

I was confused, "I don't know…movies? Dinner? 'Real World?'"

"Oh, for a second I thought you meant you and I should…you know…"

"Oh…oh, wow! No. That's not what I meant."

"Good."

"But now that you mention it…"

"Spence!"

"I'm kidding," I say, and just like that she and I are back to being she and I.

-------------------------

Kyla left right before midnight. We had talked for hours about everything. She filled me in on all I had missed, and I apologized through my actions instead of my words by listening to hers. It's difficult to keep a childhood friend. Almost impossible with all of our unique circumstances. But if you want it, if that friendship had been the only constant in your life after everything began to fall apart then you do all it takes to keep it.

But then there was Ashley. I had left things unfinished with her that afternoon. I had allowed her—once again—the time and evidence that she had done something wrong. When in fact, everything was just perfect because it was just what I wanted. She was just what I wanted. Through it all, Ashley had been an unrelenting rock. Wanting nothing more than to see me happy. Doing nothing more than allowing me time.

I basically ran down to my car. I needed to see her. It couldn't wait.

I drove recklessly—something I never do—and made it to her apartment before I could talk myself out of it. Not that I needed to, because I knew I was always welcome. She confirmed this when she opened her front door, looking tired but beautiful.

"Spencer?"

"Hey," I said, wondering why I hadn't considered the fact that she might be sleep.

"Come in," she replied with a yawn, waving me in and closing the door behind me.

"I'm sorry that it's so late. I just really wanted to talk to you…see you."

"You know you're always welcome here."

And there was the confirmation again.

"I appreciate that more than you know. Seriously, Ashley."

"You know I hate to mention this, but if you wanted to, you could stay here always."

"Ashley…"

"I know. We don't have to talk about it."

"I want to be here with you, Ash. But it's too soon, and you know it."

"I do know that."

"And I love you."

"I know that too," she said with a sleepy grin, "I love you."

"I talked to Kyla for a really long time."

"Oh yeah? What did you talk about?"

She didn't ask, she simply grabbed my hand and led me to her bedroom. I stripped down to my bra and boy shorts, noticing her eyes on me. Though we both knew this night wasn't about sex.

"Everything, you know? Us. Not you and I, but me and her. And who am I kidding? We talked about me and you too," I said as I made myself comfortable in her bed.

"Is everything ok?"

"Yeah, we're good. We just really needed some time alone. And we'll need that sometimes."

"I know."

"But I need my time with you too. So…"

"So…?"

"So, three months."

"Three months?"

"In three months, if everything is progressing—as I no doubt feel it will—then in three months I think we should try it…living together, that is."

"Seriously?" she asked, her face lighting up the dark room.

"Yeah, seriously."

"Like, you'll move in here with me?"

"Right."

"And I'll get to fall asleep next to you every night? And you can show me how to use a toaster?"

"You don't know how to use a toaster?"

"Um…" she said, nestling in closer to me, "not so much."

"I don't know if I can do this then. Like, that's a deal breaker."

She erupts in laughter, "Oh my God, what if that's what did it after all this time? Not any of the other shit we've been through, but the fact that I don't know how to use a toaster?"

"Oh, you think I'm joking, huh?"

"It's hard."

"How? All you do is push the lever down."

"But how does it know when it's done?"

"Fairies," I say, my face serious.

"Maybe! How do you know for sure? How does _anyone_ know?"

"I love you so much."

"I love you too."

"I'm going to bed. You're ridiculous."

"Just wait until you have to endure me every night before bed. You better enjoy this three months because I have lots of appliance questions for you when you move in."

"Can't wait."


End file.
